


Implosions

by Madalayna, memorizingthedigitsofpi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s03e14 Watchdogs, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:37:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8881651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madalayna/pseuds/Madalayna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/pseuds/memorizingthedigitsofpi
Summary: Summary: Post-ep for 3x14, Watchdogs. Fitz comes back to the base after nearly imploding, and he and Jemma finally talk about their relationship, Will, and what they want for their future.





	1. Near Miss

**Author's Note:**

> This is a finished work and we're planning to update this daily until the end. Enjoy!

Fitz heard Daisy reporting back to Coulson about the nitromene and he cringed inwardly, knowing Jemma would now hear the full details. She wasn’t even involved but he was already concerned she would find some way to find fault with herself—which was ridiculous, of course. 

As Zephyr One landed, he sighed inwardly, not knowing what sort of response to expect from the team. Relieved. Upset. Indifferent.

He wasn’t even certain what he was most hoping for. Though it seemed ideal that it wouldn’t be mentioned, if even _Jemma_ made no comment, he feared that might be…painful. Even if he didn’t want it to be.

He was getting comfortable with the fact that—though still somewhat distant—things with Jemma were now on a relatively even keel. Where they stood was clear again. And that had to be enough because he never wanted their relationship to get how it had been after the coma again. Things were good now. They could talk and debate, watch telly and eat a meal together. Yes. It was good again. He could live with this. 

As the ramp lowered, he slung his backpack onto his shoulder and thought about how badly Jemma would berate him for avoiding her if he tried.

* * *

Jemma chewed on her lower lip and glanced over her shoulder one more time. She knew she wasn’t supposed to divert SHIELD servers without the O.K. from Director Coulson, but he was… She couldn’t keep the guilty look from crossing her face as she considered how _different_ he’d been since the planet.

Since before that, if she were being honest.

But this was for _May_. May _and_ Dr. Garner. She had to help them, any way she could, and this was her best shot at it. 

Speaking of shots, she closed her eyes in embarrassment. What had she been thinking, picking up a gun? She hated the bloody things, and there she was learning how to use one? That wasn’t the way for her to protect herself. 

Or protect Fitz. 

She glanced at the clock at the bottom of her computer screen and tried not to think about how long he’d been out on his mission. 

It was just supposed to be data recovery from the Watchdogs attack, but then things had escalated, and now she had no idea where he was. Or _how_ he was. 

Pressing her lips together to stop their sudden shaking, she refocused her attention on the task in front of her. Fitz would be fine. He was with Daisy and Mack, after all. If anyone could keep him safe, they certainly could.

He’d be fine, she told herself again. It was a routine mission. Nothing for her to get upset about. 

And maybe if she just kept telling herself that, she’d believe it. 

He’d be fine.

He’d be fine.

He’d be fine.

* * *

Fitz kept imagining Jemma’s face when she’d seen him after he came back from Maveth—resigned, sad and maybe slightly relieved. It made him want to escape another confrontation surrounding his potential demise and avoid the tight, awful feeling in his chest that her expression had aroused.

Fitz slunk down the Playground’s corridor past the lab, considering going straight for his bunk for a shower and—no doubt—a shoddy job of bandaging his neck in the mirror. 

But then he saw Jemma at the table in the lounge, and he stopped short. 

He didn’t really know if Coulson had told her what’d happened or not—if he had, she might be worried. 

The possibility that she might be concerned, that he could end that nagging worry, was more important suddenly than the idea that her indifference might hurt him.

Pushing the door further open, he stepped into the room, and said, “Ehm, Jemma?”

Even though she knew it was a biological impossibility, it felt like her heart skipped a beat when she heard Fitz’s voice behind her.

He was alright.

She let loose the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and allowed herself to smile in relief, eyes closed, for just a moment, just _one moment_ of selfishness. Bobbi and Hunter were on the run, Dr. Garner was turning into a monster, Malick and Hydra were creating homegrown terrorists, but none of that mattered for that moment because Fitz was alright.

He’d come back to her.

She forced herself to take a deep breath in through her nose and hold it before letting it shakily out of her mouth and she blinked several times to clear her eyes of the tears that always seemed to spring forth so easily these days. Then, schooling her features into an expression any _friend_ might have when greeting another _friend_ back from a mission, she turned around.

“Fitz,” she said cheerfully as she moved to face him. “You’re ba—” 

The smile, half-formed on her face, disappeared into a look of dismay as she saw him standing there in the doorway. Her eyes immediately took in his apologetic expression and then zoomed in on the marks on his neck.

“ _Fitz!”_ she gasped. “What happened?”

Shite. No one had told her. 

Anger flared at Coulson, but he wasn’t even sure why. Fitz hadn’t even wanted her to know. If it weren’t for the very obvious evidence burned into his skin, he’d be fine just ignoring the entire incident—where Jemma was concerned, anyway. It seemed irrational to be upset with Coulson over not telling her, except if felt as if he’d simply left it to Fitz to deal with the damage. 

Then again, he seemed to feel angry at Coulson far too readily these days. 

Fitz couldn’t even seem to tell when he was being irrational anymore. Some days, all this felt like business as usual and others, it felt like the maddest road he could possibly be on.

Daisy wasn’t exactly as quiet as the grave, either, and Fitz supposed it was unrealistic to expect Jemma _never_ to find out about the nitromene bomb but—well, sometimes he wanted the impossible. 

“I’m fine, Jemma,” he said, holding up his hands defensively. “It was…” But what could he say here that wouldn’t be a lie or far less than reassuring. 

“I’m fine,” he said again, his tone infused with something like defeat.

Jemma stuttered to a stop after two steps, her desperate run to him aborted before it had even begun. Instead, she simply leaned toward him on her tiptoes and tried to get control of her hands as they reached out for him. 

She swallowed all of the questions she wanted to ask, the most important being _Are you sure_? Instead, she squeezed her right hand with her left, the pain bringing her back to reality. 

He just looked so… exhausted. 

Who could blame him, really? His life had been nothing but terrible ever since she’d dragged him out of their comfortable lab back at Sci-Ops. If it weren’t for her, he never would have been trapped at the bottom of the ocean. Never would have been abandoned when he needed her most. Never would have thought she didn’t care for him. Never would have had his heart broken by her again and again and again. 

She couldn’t do that to him one more time. 

He wanted them to be friends, and she just wanted _him_ , any way he’d let her. So, friends it was. And friends didn’t run at each other and clutch each other tight and never let go. Did they?

They had. Once. Before all of that other stuff. Before… 

She clenched her jaw tight and pushed her feelings deep down into her gut. They were _her_ feelings, and they had no place in their relationship anymore. She simply needed to remind herself of that was all. 

“Would you,” she licked her suddenly dry lips and tried to make her voice sound as casual as possible. “Would you like me to take a look at it?” she asked, releasing her grip on her fingers so that she could wave her hand at his neck. 

Fitz felt that familiar tightness begin in the center of his chest drawing in on itself like a singularity of feeling as Jemma examined his neck from her carefully measured position. Sighing inwardly, he tried to adjust his expectations to encompass the indifference he’d feared so much. 

It didn’t matter, he told himself, pushing down his feelings and holding on tight. This was to be expected. 

Though she’d presented her ‘start again’ plan as them not knowing where things would go, he’d known what she really meant. He’d understood that she wanted their old friendship back—nothing more.

He could see it in his mind’s eye—the ease that they’d had with one another, that lack of concern for anything but their collaboration—but even though he knew he still wanted more than that, even this was still better than nothing. Though it hurt that she couldn’t feel what he felt, having her friendship would always be better than not having her at all. 

He shook his head at her question, “It’s not necessary. It’ll be fine,” he said fluttering his hand over the injury, still attempting to reassure her. 

He didn’t want to linger now, answer questions—if she even had any.

“I’m fine,” he said, and cringed internally that he kept repeating himself.

It was all he knew to say. It was true. Of course, he had almost died but, in the end, he hadn’t—there was nothing Jemma could do about any of it. He didn’t want her to feel badly over a single part of it. He really just wanted to escape.

Jemma hated the way he didn’t even look at her. Couldn’t look at her? Even though he’d sought her out, or at least greeted her instead of walking by unnoticed, it was clear that he didn’t want to talk. 

She was torn between not wanting to keep him somewhere he didn’t want to be and needing so desperately to touch him, to _see_ him, to feel for herself that he was unharmed. His many protestations of being fine were anything but reassuring.

“Please?” she whispered so quietly she wondered if he could even hear her. When he didn’t react, she knew that he hadn’t.

“Please?” she asked again, louder this time, and she allowed herself to take another hesitant step in his direction.

Fitz heard the quiet word Jemma had spoken but, he’d been so surprised by it he hadn’t known how to respond. Please? It seemed strange that she was so keen to look after his wound. Perhaps she wanted to study the effects of the nitromene for future encounters. 

Oh. That was probably not a bad idea—it made sense. 

He still had the inert material in his pack. He’d been planning to take it to the lab. He and Jemma could look at it together. That would be the best. His spirits were somewhat lifted by the idea that they would move past this by going back to their scientific bond again. He should’ve thought of it himself. 

Then she said it again, louder, sadder—as if she thought he wouldn’t agree.

“I’ve got the inert material here,” he said, some of his excitement for discovery blending in with his enthusiasm for Jemma herself. “We can study the effects. Is that—you wanted to examine the effects on my skin? We have no idea what these Watchdog,” he air quoted the word and pulled a contemptuous face, “jokers have actually done to suspend the nitromene. You and I should start work on comin’ up with a defense against it.”

“N-nitromene?” Jemma asked, suddenly feeling a bit faint. “You were—” she blinked her clouding-over eyes and heard a rushing sound in her ears. “ _That_ was—” she pointed at the painful-looking marks on his neck and the dizziness got worse. “ _Nitromene_?” she asked again. 

Thankfully she hadn’t moved too far from the table, so she was able to shove one hand behind her and grope around for a chair. As soon as she managed to get a grip on one, she sat down heavily.

Fitz realized his mistake instantly. He’d assumed that she at least knew that much about the mission but, evidently, he’d been wrong there.

He began to notice what she’d been working on. There was research on the table behind her. She was tracking someone. Clearly, she’d been working on that and had no clue about the nitromene. He’d sprung it on her and now she understood fully that he’d nearly been imploded. 

When she sank down in the chair as if her legs had given out, he went down on his knees beside her but he couldn’t quite bring himself to touch her unasked. 

His hand hovering near hers, he asked, “Jemma? Are you alright?”

Jemma looked at him in confusion. “I…”

He was _there_. He was _alright_. He was looking up at her with those big blue eyes that tugged at her heart, and all she could think about was all of that imploding. _Imploding_. 

“I…” She tried to stop the tears from forming, she really did. She blinked as quickly as her eyelids would allow and focused on remembering to breathe, but she just kept thinking about Fitz, _Fitz_ , just… no longer existing. 

She felt like she was trapped inside a vacuum. No air was reaching her lungs.

She shook her head slowly as she swallowed with a dry throat. Then she hiccuped with the strain of trying not to cry. 

God, this was the _last_ thing Fitz needed after nearly… 

Nearly…

She sniffed sharply and shook her head quickly, trying to regain her composure. “I’ll be fine,” she said in a trembling voice. “I just-” 

She shook her head again and attempted a smile. She failed miserably. 

“ _I’m_ not the one who almost…” The ghost of a smile that she’d managed to paste onto her face crumbled at the prospect of saying it out loud. 

“How are _you_?” she asked. She couldn’t stop herself from reaching out a hand as if to cup his cheek, but she managed to keep herself from actually touching him. “How are you _really_?”

All Fitz’s concern that she would be indifferent to his ordeal suddenly felt so incredibly selfish. He hadn’t meant this, he’d never wanted her to be upset. He’d only wished to know that she cared—but not like this—not seeing that he’d made her suffer in yet another way. She’d suffered enough. 

His hand still hovering near hers, he said, “I’m fine. Please…don’t be upset. I didn’t almost anythin’. Daisy got the sodium hydrogen acetate into it and it was all fine. I’m completely _fine_. Nothin’ to be upset over at all, okay?” He nearly sounded angry, and he was—at himself. 

He felt like such an idiot. Why had he just blurted it out? Why hadn’t he simply passed by just as he’d first thought of doing?

“I’m sorry,” he said with defeat replacing the anger in his tone as he ran a hand over his forehead and sat back on his heels. “That was stupid. I thought you knew. I’m sorry.”

Jemma looked at him in dismay. She didn’t mean to upset him! Oh, it was all going completely pear-shaped! 

“No, _I’m_ sorry!” she rushed in, and this time she let herself touch him and took his hand. “It’s just…” She breathed out an almost-laugh. “I mean, _obviously_ you’re fine. I can _see_ that you’re—” She licked her lips and swallowed hard again. 

Trying to move them past  the awkwardness, she attempted another laugh. It was hollow and clearly fake, but the effort was there. “How did _Daisy_ know what to do?” she asked. 

She needed to distract herself from the giant, looming terror that was clawing at the back of her brain. Fitz was fine. He was here and he was fine and he wanted to get to work. 

Fitz blinked in surprise, looking down at their clasped hands. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he said, “Why’re _you_ sorry? You didn’t do anythin’, Jemma. You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for. It was me.”

Slightly distracted by Jemma’s question about Daisy, he answered, “I had some on the Zephyr and I didn’t know if we’d encounter more nitromene so I had it with me.” 

Not letting go of her hand, he sat up straight again and leaned in toward her. With some of the excitement coming back to his words, he said, “They’ve suspended it somehow. I don’t know with what yet but Daisy had to freeze it off with liquid nitrogen, Jemma.” Unconsciously, he reached up with his free hand and touched just above the wound on his neck.

He was smiling a little, hoping Jemma would forget the idea that it was him in the line of fire and get on with trying to figure out the principle behind the nitromene suspension. 

Squeezing her hand gently, he gestured to his neck, and said, “We could come up with a defense against this, don’t you think? Because we have to protect the team from this happenin’ to them.” 

That gentle squeeze of her hand grounded her, brought her back to reality. The frightened voice that was shouting at her from the back of her head quietened down and she was able to think of something other than… 

She squeezed back and stood up on still-shaky legs, pulling him up with her. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. 

“Of course,” she agreed with a tight smile. 

Time enough for her to lose control later. Alone in her room where no one else had to see. Where _Fitz_ didn’t have to see and feel badly about it. It wasn’t his fault. Nothing was his fault. It was hers and hers alone.

He was just turning back to the door and pulling his hand from her grip when she pulled him back around to look at her. 

“And Fitz?” she added, trying to keep it light. He needed her to be light right now. He’d had the weight of the world on his shoulders for too long already. 

“I’m glad you were prepared,” she said. And this time when she smiled it felt genuine.

Fitz saw Jemma’s face change from open for him to easily read her fear and upset to closed and unreadable again. He felt as if he watched each brick go in as she rebuilt the wall she’d made against him. Internally, he scoffed at her previous use of the word ‘chasm’. 

Because it wasn’t that at all, they weren’t separated by circumstances now, Jemma carefully built and maintained her wall between them. She wanted it. Jemma was protecting herself from him.

That thought hurt. In fact, the weight of it was crushing. It wasn’t just that he’d made her feel that she needed it, but that maybe she was right. 

Still, he wished that she could feel for him what he did for her. Even though he’d tried to put away those feelings, she still knew they were there. He wasn’t very good at hiding how he felt and he knew it. Clearly, his inability to change or hide his true feelings was pushing her away.

When she stood, he meant to let her hand go as he turned to leave—needing to escape even more now—but she pulled him back. Her words and her smile weren’t reassuring in the way they might’ve been before. Suddenly, he didn’t know if she was only biding her time, waiting for him to end his futile waiting game, all while trying to keep her own feelings safely away from him and somehow keep things afloat in their friendship. What a horrible balancing act she’d taken on if that were the case. It was unfair and wrong. 

He didn’t respond to her lighter statement because he felt anything _but_ prepared, even though she was thinking about the sodium hydrogen acetate and not his whole bloody life as he was.

As ever, not knowing what to do when it came to Jemma, if anything, he slid his hand away from hers, avoiding her gaze as he said, “D’you need to get samples from my neck? Or can I take a shower first and meet you in the lab?”

As soon as his hand left hers, Jemma felt herself floundering again. It was like, as long as she was touching him he was real, and as soon as she stopped he might as well be an hallucination or a hologram. 

Shoving down the intense and automatic urge to grab his hand again, she instead shoved her hands deep into her jeans pockets. She curled them into fists there, her nails digging into her palms, and tried to turn her tense shoulders into a shrug.

She hadn’t had a chance yet to let go of the worry she’d held in for all of the hours he’d been gone, let alone to process the fact that he’d almost been killed, and she needed him there with her for a little longer, just a little while longer, until she’d managed to catch up with all of her jumbled emotions as they tossed her around her own brain. 

“Samples would be best,” she said with an apologetic smile and a tilt of her head. “If you can bear it.” She leaned closer to get a better look at his torn and burned skin. “And I really should clean that out thoroughly and bandage it so you don’t irritate it further with your soap or shampoo.”

She pulled her hand out of her pocket again and started to reach towards him before stopping herself and shoving it back in again. “Shall we go to the Infirmary?”

Watching as Jemma’s body language grew even more closed, Fitz was surprised when she said that samples now would be best. He supposed they must really be needed. He’d only asked as a courtesy, thinking the inert material would be all they would need.

“Whatever we need to do to protect the team,” he said, still unable to meet her eyes for more than a moment. 

* * *

 

Though he tried to hold still as she examined his neck again, he still found himself leaning away—subconsciously avoiding the temptation inherent to the object of his desire. 

He nodded, not wanting to exacerbate his painful injury. “Yeah, okay. You’re the expert on all…” he waved a hand over his neck, a slight look of distaste on his features, “ _that_.”

At her indication, he lead them out of the room, eager to get this part over with. He was both dreading and eager for Jemma’s hands on him and he didn’t even know how to feel about it. Ashamed and guilty was covered, beyond that he had no idea.

Jemma tried to calm her nerves as she washed her hands at the Infirmary sink and then fished out a pair of gloves. She’d asked him to unbutton his shirt a bit to give her better access to his neck, but as soon as his fingers had reached up to his buttons, she’d had to turn away. 

“Just the top two,” she said after clearing her throat. If he unbuttoned it completely, she didn’t know what she might be tempted to do.

Reminding herself that she was collecting samples for scientific purposes, she put on her most professional expression before turning around. 

It only lasted a moment.

Fitz sat on the table waiting as Jemma gathered her implements and washed her hands and, when she asked him to unbutton his shirt, he began to do so almost automatically. 

He was already holding the third button when she said only the top two were necessary but he guessed she wanted to make sure he was comfortable. But it would likely be easier if she had enough space to work. He went ahead and twisted the button through, pulling his collar away from his neck to make it all go as smoothly as possible once she was ready. 

Shifting uncomfortably on the table, he looked down and realized his chest was now bare halfway to his navel and he rolled his shoulders forward self-consciously. He wasn’t used to anyone seeing him like that, much less Jemma.

Still, it’s not as if he were _appealing_ in anyway. It wasn’t as if it mattered.

He looked up as Jemma turned and, when she looked oddly concerned, his brows knitted together and he asked, “Everythin’ okay?”

Jemma’s eyes widened and she felt a flush suffuse her cheeks when she turned around to see Fitz with his shirt half-open. She drew in a deep breath through the rounded O of her lips and blinked her surprise. 

That was more than two buttons. 

“It’s fine,” she said in a voice pitched higher than usual. And then she fumbled with the gauze in her hand and dropped it on the floor. “It’s… I…” she dropped down quickly to pick it up and then turned to throw it away. “Sorry,” she apologized with a wan grin. “Clumsy.”

Pressing her lips together she tried to control her eyes but they didn’t want to obey her brain’s commands. Every time she dragged them up to his face, they slid determinedly back down to his chest. With a slow stopover at his lips in both directions. 

“I’ll just…” She approached him hesitantly, a fresh gauze pad and swab held in front of her as an excuse to get as near him as she wished to be. But then she was stymied because he was sat on the table with his hands under his thighs and his legs casually apart and in order to reach his neck, she’d have to step between them.

“Is it okay if I…?” she motioned to the space between his knees. Then she held her breath and waited for his response, not at all sure what she wanted him to say. 

Jemma definitely seemed off as she fumbled and stuttered. Fitz had to press his lips thin to suppress a small smile at her hesitant behavior. She was looking at him oddly as well. Then it occurred to him that he might’ve made _her_ uncomfortable with his shirt and immediately he cursed himself internally for not following her instructions to the letter. Were she not coming straight for him now, he’d have covered himself back up. 

As it was, she was right to his knees when she indicated needing to come even closer, gesturing to the space between his legs. 

He swallowed thickly and, brows gradually rising in anticipation, he nodded slowly. “Ehm…okay.” 

It wasn’t odd, was it? It wasn’t unprofessional, certainly. It was just…awkward. Wasn’t it?

Jemma stared into Fitz’s eyes for a second or two too long. They hadn’t been this physically close since that day in the lab when he’d kissed her. 

God, that kiss had been brilliant. 

She replayed it in her head over and over again a hundred times a day, at least. The press of his lips, the feel of his arms around her. The gut-punch of adrenaline and passion and need it had sparked in her. Still sparked in her, every time she thought about it. 

She was thinking about it now, her eyes dropping from his to look at his lips, and she really needed to stop. 

“Excellent,” she said briskly, trying to regain her professionalism. With a deep breath and a friendly smile, she stepped sideways between Fitz’s legs and tried not to let her hands shake as she reached for his neck. 

“If you could just tilt your head for me?” she asked. Her whole body was buzzing at being this close to him. 

Fitz noticed Jemma gazing into his eyes rather intently. Her clear, brown irises that he knew so very well seemed almost lit from within. Sussing out the meaning of her look or her unusual intensity was more than he could really do at the moment. 

Not with her so close.

Her smell, floral and light, was already in his nose making his heart ache over wishing it could be the scent he could fall asleep to and wake up with every day of his life. 

But as she moved even closer, all that came into relief was her smile—her lips. Her generous lower lip that he could still feel the imprint of on his own lips. He couldn’t ever forget the feel of her lips against his, nor the sweet taste of her.

He realized that his heart was racing and his feet were fidgeting in some uncontrollable dance of agitation.  

He had to drag his eyes away so she could begin working on his neck but it wasn’t enough, she had to tell him to turn further. He tipped his head away, his belly fluttering with tingles as she began to touch him. 

Feeling her brush the inside of his thigh, he had to suppress his reaction as the muscles in his leg tensed and quivered. 

Even through her gloves, her touch was electric—after all, he still knew it was her—Jemma—the woman he couldn’t stop loving no matter how hard he tried.

Jemma bit her lip and frowned as she took in the damage to Fitz’s neck. He was burned, whether from the nitromene or the liquid nitrogen she wasn’t sure yet. 

She clenched her teeth one more time as she remembered what had almost happened. 

She swabbed gently at the remnants of material still attached to his skin, cooing softly as he sucked in a breath of discomfort. “Shh,” she said soothingly, pressing down slightly on the site she’d just pulled. Then she quickly and efficiently packaged and labelled the swab and placed it on the tray next to the table. 

“This might sting a bit,” she warned him as she prepped a gauze pad of alcohol solution. Pulling the collar of his shirt wide enough to expose his strong shoulder, she dabbed at his raw wound.

His sharp inhalation made her wince and jump slightly. “Sorry!” she apologized. Then, she leaned in a bit hesitantly to just a few inches from his neck and blew across the damp spot to relieve the pain. 

“Is that better?” she asked, lifting her head. He’d turned his head at the same time and now their faces were a scant two inches apart. 

Her eyes dropped down to his lips one more time before she dragged them up to look into his eyes. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she wished, not for the first time, that she could be as brave as he was and just move forward that little bit to kiss him.

Fitz grimaced, pleasant thoughts on hold, as she prodded his angry neck wound. He tried to hold it all in but he hissed through his teeth and tensed as she worked.

Her warning him of the impending pain didn’t help and he gasped loudly, trying not to flinch away. He was about to complain about her choice of antiseptic when Jemma apologized. But then he felt her breathe a long, cool breath out onto his neck and it made him shiver.

It was startling to feel something so intimate between them suddenly. It was familiar in a way they hadn’t been for a long time. Without thought, turning his head to gauge her expression, he nearly connected with her as she raised her head up again. 

Her gaze was, once again, intensely focused on his eyes. His own were wavering back and forth from her eyes to her lips. They hadn’t been so close since he’d kissed her in the lab—and she’d kissed him back. 

He still didn’t know why. 

In that moment before he’d kissed her, he’d only thought how doomed it all was and how much he didn’t want never feeling her lips against his to be his greatest regret. 

Knowing that things were all wrong between them, there seemed little he could do to spoil them further—so he’d closed the distance and, though feeling a thief, he’d had his longing muted for three seconds. 

He’d never expected her to kiss him back again. That had felt like flying. 

Now, as Jemma hovered so close, her eyes seeming to question, he licked his lips and swallowed back the temptation to repeat his act of thievery. It was a hollow feeling compared to what they’d had the second time and he wouldn’t repeat it. He wouldn’t taint their last kiss with something so bleak. 

The passion of their one shared kiss would have to be enough to last him the rest of his life. 

Sucking in a shallow breath, his heart like a drum, he swallowed too-loudly and said quietly, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Jemma stared at him, one of her hands still gripping his collar and the other holding onto the gauze. The way he was looking at her… Her heart swelled in her chest with a hope she hadn’t had in months. 

If he was looking at her like that, then maybe, _maybe_ she still had a chance. 

Did she even deserve one?

She’d hurt him so much, cut him so deeply that she didn’t see how it was possible. He’d been so distant since he’d come back from the planet that she’d had to assume he had closed himself off from her. She couldn’t blame him in the slightest for wanting to protect himself from pain she kept putting him through. 

But this look in his eyes, this expression, was one she remembered from before the planet. This was the pod, the locker room, the lab, and a thousand other moments they’d shared all echoed in that unwavering blue. 

She was hoping. Hoping against hope, and she threw caution to the wind. She’d managed to tell him that she wanted his friendship. She could tell him that she wanted more, too. 

“I lied,” she said in a rush. His immediate frown of confusion told her that it was coming out all wrong, so she tried again. “When I said I wanted to be friends, I lied,” she explained. 

He was starting to move now, and she needed him not to leave, so she pressed both her palms against his chest to keep him seated in front of her. 

“I want….” she sucked in a trembling breath but refused to look away from him. “More.”


	2. Truths

Waiting for Jemma to withdraw, Fitz was startled when she blurted that she’d lied. But he had no idea what she was talking about. 

The bottom dropped out of his stomach when she said she lied about wanting to be friends. Instantly, he felt sick that she’d somehow felt obligated to pretend if she really didn’t want anything to do with him any longer. 

He wanted to apologize that he’d made her feel that way but the words were stuck in his throat—they were caught behind the tears that were being held back by nothing but sheer force of will. 

She wasn’t moving and, just needing to get away now, he tried to scoot forward off the table but she stopped him, hands pressed firmly against his chest. 

He forced himself to meet her eyes, just hoping he could end this confrontation so she might let him go.

At the word ‘more’, face scrunching up in confusion, he blurted, “What?” because it didn’t make any _sense_. His head wasn’t keeping up with the changes. She wanted—what?

He was too confused and terrified to hope that she meant anything good now. With his pulse pounding in his ears, all he could bring himself to say was, “More…what?”

Jemma took her hands off his chest and backed away. She looked down, brows drawing into a frown and lower lip quivering. She was doing it all _wrong_. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ Her left hand fluttered up to her temple and she massaged it while she tried to find the words. 

What were the _words_?

She always knew exactly what to say, except when she tried to talk to Fitz. There were too many emotions, too many years between them for her to be able to sort it all out into sentences, and now _again_ her stupid brain was mucking it all up. 

“More _you_!” she shouted, a sob in her throat. “More _us_! More of you and I _together_! I want,” she sucked in a ragged breath and blinked to keep the tears from falling from her eyes. “I want to _have this_ ,” she said more quietly, stepping forward and taking his hand. “I want to have _us_ before we lose the chance completely.”

She looked up again, finally, heart in her throat, afraid of what she might see.

When Jemma backed away, Fitz thought maybe she wouldn’t answer. That maybe this was all going to only become some awful new confusion in their relationship, or worse, that she really would retreat from him entirely. 

Sliding off the table, he pulled his shirt closed self-consciously, wanting to be covered, as if that would in some way help the blow that was obviously coming.

He watched as she kneaded her forehead, her expression so upset, and he cursed himself for not passing by the door when he’d seen her in the lounge. His life was becoming just an endless series of regrets for him. He was sorry he’d told her how he felt, sorry he’d lied to her, sorry he’d left her in that room alone, sorry he hadn’t found her sooner, sorry he couldn’t get Will back for her, sorry he could never be what she wanted—just _sorry_.

Gaping at her shouted words, he still couldn’t quite shake loose the cobwebs of doubt in his mind. This all seemed so odd, abrupt—and why would she lie?

Staring down at their clasped hands, he heard the sad worry in her tone and he realized that she’d thought he could die and now she was trying to take a step toward—he hardly wanted to even think it lest he was wrong but—love. 

He recognized that she was assessing him and—in her way—asking him if he still wanted to move forward too. 

Looking into her expectant, even slightly frightened face, he reached up with his other hand and grasped her shoulder, his thumb stroking a comforting line up and down. 

“Jemma,” he said, taking in a shaky, rough breath, “I want that too.” That was the easy part, now for the difficult, “But why would you lie? Are you sure you’re…ready for that?” 

Fitz couldn’t bring himself to ask another question beyond that but he knew he didn’t want her to do anything out of desperation or fear. He didn’t want to be her sad second choice either, didn’t want her to compare him to Will with him always coming up short and he certainly didn’t want to feel he was always apologizing because he wasn’t a dead man that she was still longing for. 

As soon as he said he wanted her, Jemma’s entire body felt lighter than it had in months. _Years,_ even. She _wasn’t_ too late. She _hadn’t_ broken them beyond repair. He _hadn’t_ given up on her and on them and the cosmos and the rest.

“I’ve thought about it, on some level, ever since I shook your hand at the Academy,” she whispered. “I’ve wanted it, in the back of my mind, since I sat at your hospital bed for nine days waiting for you to wake up.” She moved forward and rested her forehead on his collarbone, looking down at their twined hands. “I’ve had all of these _feelings_ for you just _exploding_ in my brain ever since…” she trailed off. Now wasn’t the time to list everything out. Now was the time to be clear.

“I lied because I thought that’s what you wanted,” she said, backing away again but not letting go of his hand. “And I thought I could protect you… from me,” she swallowed hard. “But no matter _what_ I do, you’ll never be safe,” tears sprang up in her eyes again and she pressed her lips together to hold in a sob. 

“I can’t let you _die_ , Fitz,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “Not without—” 

She couldn’t keep it in anymore. Her emotions overwhelmed her. She buried her face against his chest and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. He was fine. He was alive. He was safe. He was with her.

Fitz wasn’t quite sure how to take in the information that she’d had feelings for him for so long. As she leant her head against his shoulder, his hand slid around to her back, gently holding her closer. 

The disappointment when her words trailed off was almost a physical pain but then she went on to say she’d thought he wanted them to be only friends and he was completely caught off guard by it. That was nothing to hearing she thought he needed protecting from _her_. He was so stunned he didn’t know what to say. 

When she seemed to become overwhelmed, he finally embraced her fully—wrapping her up in his arms and holding her tight—his odd little bird. 

“I don’t understand,” he whispered against her hair, “but if you really do want _more_ , we’ll figure this out. Okay, Jemma? We can figure anythin’ out, alright?”

Squeezing her a bit tighter, he pressed his cheek to her hair and murmured, “I’ve missed you.”

The feeling of his arms around her, holding her, embracing her was so wonderful and longed for and _right_ that Jemma couldn’t help but let out a frail little laugh. 

“It’s taken us _twelve years_ to figure it out so far,” she observed, sniffling up the last of her tears. She leaned her head back but did nothing to loosen their hug. “And I don’t want to wait twelve more before you kiss me again.”

She looked into his wide blue eyes and resisted the urge to press her lips against his. This time, she wanted them both to know it was going to happen. This time, she wanted it to be clear what was going on between them.

“… If that’s alright with you?” 

Fitz couldn’t but believe that the only reason they hadn’t figured it out yet was because they hadn’t really tried—but he certainly hadn’t. 

It was too painful—or it had been. Of course now, the idea of figuring it out together with a light at the end of the tunnel was far more appealing than it would’ve been trying to plumb the depths of a black hole that was only going to break him down to his most infinitesimal parts.

His skin felt hot and yet there was a thrill of cool fear going down his spine at Jemma’s words. Kissing her was something he’d been longing for and dreaming of doing again with his whole heart but he was scared too. He didn’t want to go too fast and muck things up. He didn’t want to live with regret either, from acting rashly or not acting at all.

But he still felt as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. Not to mention, they _were_ standing in the middle of the infirmary, while clinging to each other like fools. Restraint seemed the order of the day.

Glancing down at her beautiful lips, so close he could only tilt his head and meet them in another shared moment of utter intimacy and connection like they’d only known once before. That’s when the realization hit him that Jemma was—right now, this moment—asking him to kiss her. She wanted it—him. 

To hell with prudence—he bent his head, taking in a quavery breath as his eyes slid shut and his mouth met hers, falling immediately into a far more heated rhythm than what they’d shared before. 

Fitz felt almost completely freed from the constraint he’d kept on his passions for so very long now. He felt instantly lighter, happiness glowing warmly in his chest, just as much as the knot of his tangled desires was unfurling slowly, down deep in his belly .

Somehow, Jemma had expected his kiss to be soft and tentative, as unsure as she’d been for their whole conversation. Instead, it was as sure and as constant as the law of gravity. Or the laws of thermodynamics.

Remembering that moment, so long ago now, when he’d first told her how he felt, Jemma could only wish they’d had more _time_ , more than an instant for her to process what he’d said before everything went to hell. 

She kissed him now, pulling him tight against her and trying to make up for 2 years or 12 in a single kiss. She kissed him with every word she’d never said, every thought she’d kept to herself, every desire she’d only ever allowed herself to indulge when she was alone in her bunk in the dark.

She gripped him tight, her arms wrapped around him now, and her hands and nails dug into his back as she tried to pull him even closer than he already was. 

Fitz was enraptured as Jemma began to kiss him back with something like the fervor he might’ve hoped for. As much as he’d longed for that, somehow, he was still stunned to experience the reality of Jemma expressing desire for him.

As he cradled her jaw and tilted his head, he deepened their connection further when he moved his tongue past her lips to slide against hers. Her response of arms holding him as if she’d never let go and fingers and nails biting into the skin of his back right through his shirt was intoxicating. 

Fingers gathering up a handful of her blouse as he clung to her waist, Fitz let out a soft moan from the back of his throat and wondered how this had taken them so long. In this moment, it felt inevitable, as unavoidable as the beginning and end of the universe. A foregone conclusion.

Feeling almost giddy, he rocked back on his heels but, almost lightheaded, he took an unsteady step back, bringing her with him as he bumped the exam table. 

Parting their lips, he chuckled and pressed his forehead to hers, savoring the closeness the way they’d done before. He wasn’t only savoring, he was drinking in the feeling of having her in his arms. He felt so complete—the feeling was quite irresistible—though it made him long for more.

“Whoops,” he said, his face still so close to hers that they were sharing breath.

Suddenly, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was right—perfect and pure. He wanted to explain how much this meant to him, how much he loved her but something stopped him. There was still so much to say, things to figure out.

Smiling, he placed a small, chaste peck to her lip and said, “We should talk about… _more_ ,” he nodded toward the glass wall behind her and added, “privately.”

Jemma blushed at the realization that they were in the middle of the infirmary. She’d forgotten completely in the heat of the moment and the haze of emotions. What if someone had walked in on them? What if they hadn’t stopped?

Her mind rapidly flipped through a series of images that broke every protocol she, herself, had put in place for proper care and use of the medical rooms, and she realized Fitz had a point. 

“That’s,” she cleared her throat of the raspy proof of their endeavours and smiled shyly. “That’s probably quite a good idea,” she said, giving him a peck in return. 

She was loath to let go of him, but realized they couldn’t exactly walk through the Playground entwined in each other’s arms without raising a few eyebrows. Squeezing him with a final hug, she stepped out of his embrace and shivered at how cold she suddenly felt. She’d have to make sure he put his arms around her again, as soon as possible. 

Taking his hand in hers, she felt her smile broaden until it spread across her whole face. She never would have thought she’d be able to say this to Fitz, not in this context at least, but now that she could she was going to enjoy the moment fully. 

Tugging him towards the door, she said, “Your place or mine?”

Jemma’s shy smile made Fitz’s own lips quirk in return. Though he wanted to kiss her again, he knew they should be professional in the lab at least. If this was really going to happen, they would have to be able to work together without their relationship getting in the way. 

Fitz tucked a loose bit of hair back over her ear before she gave him a final squeeze and slid from their embrace. 

He was only just lamenting the loss of contact when she took his hand and started to lead him. He couldn’t help laughing at her provocative phrasing on where they would chat. 

“Yours is neater,” he said shyly, with a small self-conscious chuckle. 

With a new hope for the future, he followed her back to her room and, once inside, he couldn’t stop himself from using the grip she had on his hand to pull her closer again but, not quite willing to press her, he didn’t embrace her again. Though he wished they could have their entire discussion all while she was in his arms, he realized it was likely unrealistic. 

However, going from this giddy happiness to some of the harsher realities of their relationship was wholly unappealing just now. He wanted this feeling to last awhile. 

Smiling at her timidly, he said, “This isn’t exactly how I thought this day would go.” 

Actually, if nearly imploding was repaid like this, it might even be a fair bargain.

Jemma smiled back at him and then pressed her lips against his. Her eyes fluttered closed as she allowed her free hand to brush across his cheek and then slide just barely into his hair. Much as she wanted to continue with the passionate kisses of the infirmary, she knew she either had to slow down or move considerably faster than might be advised. 

Lifting her lips from his, she dragged her hand down his neck and collarbone to rest just above his heart. She paused for a moment, simply looking at him, and enjoyed the steady rhythm under her palm. 

She was still having a hard time believing this was _real_ , that it wasn’t just the latest dream her brain had cooked up to give her what she wanted. But if this really _were a_ dream, it wouldn’t have begun like a nightmare, would it? Every other time she’d imagined them like this, it had always been as easy and full of romance as a typical romcom. 

And she’d imagined them like this _a lot_. 

Perhaps she should tell _Fitz_ that?

Expressing her feeling had never been her strong suit, but the responses she was getting today were making her want to practice. And who better to practice with than Fitz? He really did deserve to know it. And now she knew he wanted to hear.

“This is how I’ve been hoping my day would go ever since you asked me out for dinner,” she admitted. 

“Minus the nearly imploding,” she added after a moment. With him there in her arms, safe and sound and _with her_ , it was becoming less scary to think about.

Jemma gave him another, less heated kiss but it was no less wonderful. Fitz accepted it eagerly; not trying for more but simply taking what she offered. 

Full of a pleasant light and warmth as their lips parted again, Fitz reached for her hand over his heart, pressing it firmly to his chest as he leaned forward and touched his cheek to her temple fondly. 

This was what his heart needed, this affection and closeness. God, he’d missed it. Not that they’d been quite so close before the pod but sometimes it felt just like this back then. And, oh, how he’d missed this feeling—this togetherness.

Jemma’s mention of him asking her out for dinner only reminded Fitz of all the things they hadn’t yet said about Will and Maveth and if this was really a good idea already and if she could really love him after her heart being broken and _goddamn bloody Will_. 

As much as he wanted to hate him, he couldn’t bring himself to do it—but he couldn’t forget about him either. Had nothing been declared between he and Jemma it would’ve been easier but, as it was, Will was like a blight in the middle of their story in Fitz’s mind and, as much as he wished he could let it go, 

Forcing a laugh, Fitz said, “Yeah, minus nearly implodin’ for me as well.”

Jemma felt Fitz stiffen up as soon as she’d mentioned their dinner date. Of _course_. Bloody _stupid_ … His humourless laugh was as painful to listen to as it must have been to force out. She’d only mentioned it because it was the last time before this moment that she’d been truly happy. The last time that her heart had been this full of hope. 

She walked them both over to her bed and sat down on the edge of it, looking up at Fitz until he sat next to her. She kept her hands folded around his, and she was reminded of how they’d sat like this once before. She’d called him her hero then, and she’d meant it in a friendly sort of cheering-up kind of way, but the thing was, he really _was_ her hero. In _every_ way. 

There was no one in the world she looked up to as much, respected as much, felt in awe of as much as Fitz. He was the ideal she held herself up against at every turn and the man she compared every other man to, always finding them wanting. 

But _feeling_ that was one thing and _saying_ it was something else entirely, and she never had been very good with words. 

She remembered what Fitz had said, just before he’d kissed her the first time, and she remembered what she’d said about Ward the last time they’d sat like this, and she hoped it would be the right thing to say because she didn’t know what other words to use. 

“ _He’s_ not the one who gave me hope on the edge of nowhere, Fitz,” she said, squeezing his hand  when he flinched and looking him in the eyes. She needed him to understand because if she couldn’t do that then what good were these brains of hers anyway. “It was _you._ It’s _always_ been you.” 

She ducked her head down as she felt the blush creep over her cheeks again, but then she made herself be brave and look at him again. He needed to hear this, and she had to be brave enough to tell him. 

“There’s never been anyone else, in this world or another, who meant anywhere near as much to me as you.”

Following Jemma as she led him to the bed, he said beside her, felt his heart swell at feeling so close again as she enfolded his hand in hers. As tempting as it was to give in to feeling and want to just embrace her once more and try to pretend none of the rest of it mattered, he sensed she was ready to discuss this step between them and he waited patiently for her to speak. 

At her words, he gasped in a breath, his muscles tensing, as he realized she hadn’t been impressed by his laugh-as-cover. She’d seen right through him. 

But the words that once might’ve lifted him to the heights of joy, now only seemed hollow—because if that were true, why had she lost that hope? Why had she then loved Will and why had she wanted him back with her?

He met her next words with skepticism. In his mind, him being more important to her than Will was counter to everything that had gone between them since she told him of Will’s existence. 

“But—you wanted him—wanted me to bring him back to you.” 

The words came out automatically and as soon as they had, he was cursing himself internally. What was the matter with him? Was he _trying_ to muck this up already?

Sliding his hand from hers, he brought it to his forehead, his eyes squeezing tight in anguish. 

He shook his head, dropping his hand but not yet opening his eyes and trying to swallow past the thickness in his throat. “No, never mind. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just—we can forget all that. Let’s just…move on,” he ground out unconvincingly. 

Fitz didn’t want to live in the past and if Jemma wanted to be together now, he should just be grateful for that and not force her to relive the pain of their unfortunate history. He knew she hadn’t intended for any of it to happen and he held no blame. It wasn’t blame for her that ate at him, it was the idea that he wasn’t enough. That no matter what he was or did, it would never be enough to keep her. 

Jemma watched, her heart breaking, as Fitz once more buried his own needs in order to see to hers. Would he ever stop hurting himself in an effort to make her feel better? Maybe it _would_ be kinder to him to withdraw from this. She’d rather feel this stabbing in her heart every day for the rest of her life, if it meant that Fitz would be able to be happy instead. 

_Why_ could she never say the right thing? Why did it always come out _wrong_? Why couldn’t she make him _see_ what he meant to her? 

“No,” she said, surprised by the strength behind the word. “ _No_ ,” she shook her head firmly and stood up. She needed to _move_. She couldn’t talk and she couldn’t think and she was so full of feelings she might _explode_ and she just needed him to _understand_. _How could she make him_ ** _understand_**?

“It _matters_ , Fitz,” she said, beginning to pace. Her hands fluttered uselessly in front of her and she gripped one hand in the other to try to make them stop. 

“It matters _so much_!” Her fingers pulled and twisted each other the way her stomach pulled and twisted inside her every time it came out wrong. “I need you to know, to _understand_ how much I—”


	3. Together

Fitz’s heart clenched as Jemma stood, her firm ‘no’ still resounding in his ears. He was a rabbit caught in a trap, writhing and flailing in regret and fear. He was convinced he’d done, it, mucked this up, made her change her mind. But the terrified voice in the back of his mind that couldn’t help but fear this would all turn out wrong said: if it was so easy for her to let go of, then perhaps he should let it go too.

But then she had his attention again, something inside him cracking when she said that it _did_ matter. It was joyful to think that she truly cared but it was also breaking away the barrier in his heart that he’d been trying to hide behind for fear of being hurt further. 

Her agitated behavior, however, had him less excited. Upsetting her wasn’t what he wanted. But, unable to stop her when she was finally letting go and trying to explain, he was on pins and needles as she stopped short, leaving her next sentence hanging in the air. He felt as if he were struck by one of those pins, left slowly deflating as he waited for her to finish. _Love—_ he wanted to hear that word. He wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything.

For Jemma, love wasn’t even the word for it. It was so much more than that. Calling it “love” seemed to cheapen it. Dwindle it down to less than it was. “Love” was too easy a word to say, too small an idea, too simple a term for everything that she felt. But she didn’t know what words to use instead. And he needed to hear the words. 

“I wanted Will back, yes,” she said, not daring to look at him when she said it. “But not for _me_. I wanted him back because because no one deserves to live like he was. I didn’t deserve to come back if he was still there. I couldn’t—” She stopped herself before she said too much. Fitz didn’t need to know about that. She’d hurt him enough as it was. 

It would’ve been hard to explain how much it hurt to hear her say—instead of that longed for word love—that she _had_ wanted Will back. Though, _not for herself_ , was a good addition but his frustration grew when she stopped herself again.

“Please,” he begged, “please just stop censorin’ yourself. I know it’s difficult to speak about but,” he shook his head, “these bits and pieces aren’t helpin’. I think it’s time we decide that it’s all or nothin’. 

If you don’t want to discuss it, then let’s agree to let it all go now. But…if you do think it’s important, as you said, then just—let me hear it all, Jemma. It can’t be worse than this. 

Every pause I fill up with all my fears and every allusion is automatically goin’ to turn negative in my head. I feel like we’re so close to—I don’t know, but I want to get past this and I don’t know how to do it this way.” 

He sighed. “We’re scientists, when have we ever been afraid of knowledge? The facts? Give me the facts now, Jemma—or let’s just—we shouldn’t torment ourselves like this. Let’s call it done and try to move on.”

Fitz knew that if she chose option two it would be difficult for him but option one would, of course, be worse for Jemma. He wasn’t even certain which he was hoping for. He just had to trust that whichever she chose wouldn’t be too much for the one who bore the brunt of the burden.

The terror welled up inside Jemma again at the thought of losing Fitz. Losing his love and his friendship was almost as terrible as losing _him_ , and she could feel herself start to panic at the idea. Her heart, already racing, started beating faster and her breaths came in rasping gasps as she tried to get air into her lungs. The tears she’d kept inside so far started to fall, and she was paralyzed with indecision. 

She wanted him more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life. _Needed_ him, really, but what he was asking of her might just push him away. 

But if she didn’t try? If she didn’t do _everything_ in her power to make things work between them, she might as well have died on that planet because she certainly wouldn’t be living on this one. 

She looked at him, her body gripped in a cage of fight or flight, but she knew he was right. He had to know. He had a _right_ to know, and she had to find a way to tell him. 

“I’m scared,” she whispered hoarsely, not even recognizing her own voice. “I’m so scared of losing you that I can’t _think_ straight.” Finally admitting it, finally saying it out loud to someone, finally saying it to _Fitz_ was like bursting a dam. 

“When I don’t have you, I don’t want to live.” The tears were flowing and her nose was running and her words were broken up by sobs. She had no idea if Fitz could even understand her at this point, but she had to say it. She had to tell him. And she’d have to _keep_ telling him until it was clear. 

“On that planet, I—” she gulped down a sob looked around desperately for something to wipe her nose. Failing to find anything, she gave up and used her sleeve. “I had hope for as long as I had _you_ ,” she continued, pressing through the panic and the tears and the fist clutching her heart. “And when you were gone…” She closed her eyes, reliving that moment of knowing she’d never see him again, knowing that she’d ruined the last chance of him finding her. “When I couldn’t see your face or hear your voice anymore, suddenly all of Will’s months of pessimism just hit me at once, and I gave up. I gave up on trying and I gave up on fighting and I gave up on _you_ , and I can’t ever forgive myself for that. Not ever.”

She felt the guilt wash over her, and it was almost a relief. It was an accustomed ache, the stabbing pains as intimate and familiar as a caress, and somehow it soothed her. This was a pain she knew. It was a pain she could bear. 

Speaking still quietly, but with her sobs under control now, she continued. “You’re _everything_ to me, Fitz. You’ve been the centre of my universe since I was 16 years old. You’re so much a part of me that I’m not _me_ without you. When you were gone, I just…” her shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“I can’t give up on us, Fitz,” she said, looking at him with tortured eyes. “Not again.”

She only hoped he didn’t want her to.

It was heartbreaking to hear Jemma say she was scared, that she didn’t want to live, that she couldn’t forgive herself. Tears coming to his eyes, Fitz stood and went to her, pulling her into his arms and pressing his nose into the fluffy, sweet-smelling waves of her hair. 

“Jemma,” he said, but it was a sob more than an attempt to address her. “Jemma, I’m so sorry. I wish I could’ve saved you from that. I could never give up on us—on you. I love you—god—so much.”

Even just with that bit she’d said, he felt he understood now. Finally, most of it made sense to him. And, even though there was still pain, it was pain he could understand and therefore live with. 

“You’ll never lose me. But you _have_ to forgive yourself. It wasn’t your fault. I never thought it was. Please don’t keep blamin’ yourself for it. It was as much my fault as anyone’s. If only I’d gotten there sooner, I could’ve saved you all that pain. I’m so sorry.”

Clutching at her desperately, somehow trying to be as close to her as possible, he bent to kiss her again. This time he was almost frenzied but not with passion, with a desire to comfort and soothe. He didn’t want her to be afraid of losing him or worry he might give up. 

Parting from her lips, he murmured, “You’re the only thing that’s ever mattered to me.” He cupped her jaw and, trying to sniff back his tears, he felt another slip down his cheek. “You’re my constant. The center of my universe. Without you I can’t move, I just stand still. I need you like I need gravity because it’s all chaos without you. I’ll never want to be without you and I’ll never leave for as long as you want me.” 

Letting out a small chuckle, he added, “And if you can’t understand how I feel now, I’ll just keep tellin’ you until you do because this is it for me. You’re my whole life. Nothin’ is too much for me as long as we can be together.”

Jemma stared up at Fitz in wonder. She would never understand how he could keep loving her through everything she’d done. She hiccuped back a sob and sniffled up her running nose and reached up to wipe the tears off his cheeks. She’d do anything to make him never cry again. 

Pulling him down to kiss her again, she closed her eyes tight and pressed her lips against his and wished with every part of her that she could just, for once, make him happy. 

“It’s not _your_ fault, either,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. She still held his cheeks in her hands and her lips were just an inch from his. “You did everything right. _Everything,”_ she looked into his eyes so he would see how sincere she was. “You’re perfect,” she said, a small smile finally breaking over her face. “You’re so perfect and wonderful and brilliant and handsome and _you_ , and I just can’t quite believe that you feel the same way I do.”

Her heart soared and she kissed him again. Softer this time. Less desperate. 

When she finally lifted her lips from his again, she took a now-calm breath, her heart beating at a normal rate for the first time since she’d seen the marks on his neck, and she looked into his blue eyes one more time. 

“I love you, too,” she said, and the happiness that washed over his face made her want to say it again. “I love you so much.” His arms tightened around her, and she never wanted to stop saying it. “Loving you is such a big part of me that the word love feels too small to hold it all,” she said with a little laugh. “Do you think we can come up with a better one?”

“Yeah,” Fitz said softly. “We can work on that. A bigger word than love because I need that, too. It feels like I’ve got universes of the stuff inside me for you. It’s all yours, everythin’ that I am.” 

Running the tip of his nose along hers, he pressed a small kiss to her lips and felt an odd sort of release inside himself. It was as if more of the ice he’d packed around his heart were breaking away, allowing it to come back to life and begin to beat again. 

Running his hands over her arms and urging her to go back and sit on the bed, he sighed and said, “But I’m far from perfect. I’m just—I dunno—strugglin’ through and you can’t feel like I’m better somehow and go on blamin’ yourself the way you do. Please, let’s work on that—however you like—but it’ll never be good for us if you think that way.”

Shaking his head and chuckling slightly, he said, “I always think of you as the one who’s perfect, anyway. You’re always takin’ care of everyone and wantin’ the best for everyone but yourself.”

“You’re the one I’ve always measured myself and everyone else against. Because, even if you make a mistake, I always know that you only made the choice because you thought it was right.” He looked at her fondly and shrugged. “And we all make mistakes. It doesn’t make you a bad person—intentions are what matter. And I never have to wonder if yours are anythin’ but the best.” He could keep a smile from his lips because of just how true that was—he didn’t doubt her, ever.

Jemma’s smile was so broad she thought her face might crack with it. 

“You’re perfect for _me_ , how about?” she asked, pulling him down for another kiss. “And as far as I’m concerned, you can hold me for the rest of my life and it won’t be long enough.”

She wanted to talk about the rest, about how he was her measure as much as she was his, about the mistakes that she’d made and all of her intentions, but right now she was too drained, too happy, too content. They could travel that route another time. Together. 

Feeling slightly nervous to say but knowing that once it might’ve been little to ask of her, with hesitation apparent in his tone, he said, “Would it be okay…could I just,” he glanced nervously at the bed, “can I hold you for a bit? I just want to feel you close, is all. I’ve missed touchin’ you.” 

He felt like he could hardly remember a time when their interactions weren’t full of discomfort and hesitancy—much less any sort of freedom to touch one another without fear or nervousness.

Holding tight to his hand, she pulled him behind her to her bed and lay down. Scooching over to give him room to get in, she smiled up at him expectantly. The calm she’d felt when he’d told her he loved her was morphing into butterflies of nerves in her stomach, but they felt light and airy and so full of hope. 

She patted the mattress beside her. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Laying down beside the woman he loved, Fitz felt strangely lacking in the nerves he might’ve expected in this situation. He felt oddly content suddenly—complete in a way he never had before, because Jemma loved him, too.

Sliding close, he slipped his arms around her, reveling in the warmth of her body and pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

Fitz was drained emotionally from, not only this step in working things out with Jemma, but he’d nearly been imploded today—though that almost seemed a dim memory now compared to the deeper emotional scars that now seemed to be finally starting to heal. 

Though he was tired, somehow, he knew he wouldn’t sleep, not when he could savor the feel of her in his arms like this. Soothingly, he caressed her back, letting his fingers run along her spine to relieve her tense muscles and help her relax. It also kept him from his usual fidgeting, though now it wasn’t nervousness but excitement that caused his restlessness. 

He couldn’t wait to discuss their future, now that things were at least a bit settled, he couldn’t see why they couldn’t see if they were on the same page about their life together once they were a bit more emotionally ready again.

Almost subconsciously, he picked up her hand, exploring the textures of it with his fingertips. This, he found calming, getting to know all the things he didn’t already about his best friend and soon _more than that_.

Though he really wanted to kiss her again, he wanted to let her rest if she needed it as well. He was starting to wonder if he’d ever rest again when he realized that he felt almost giddy. 

Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed soft kisses to the back. Her skin was so soft, the opposite of his own calloused hands. He smiled against her palm, realization once again hitting him that, yes, this was real—Jemma loved him.

Jemma felt strangely delicate lying there in Fitz’s arms. He was looking at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen, and it was filling her up with joy. Each time he pressed his lips to her skin, she felt the light of it spreading through her, reaching all of the dark places that had been crowding her soul. Fitz loved her, in spite of them, and in so doing he was brightening them up.

Lifting her free hand, she allowed herself the luxury of brushing it through his hair. She done it dozens of times in a previous life, a life when they were just friends, but it hadn’t felt right ever since they’d become… more. There had been too many roadblocks in the way, too many misunderstandings for her to reach across the chasm between them and stroke him as gently as she was doing now. 

Her hand drifted down and skimmed across his brow, her thumb brushing through the short hairs above his eye. And then she was cupping his cheek, his skin still soft beneath the roughness of his stubble, and she remembered him at 16 before hair had started growing there. 

Her fingers trailed down further and then her thumb was rubbing across his lips, and she wasn’t feeling soft or delicate anymore. The butterflies were replaced with fireworks exploding under her skin, and she was very conscious of his hand on her back, running up and down along her spine. His fingers bumped across the clasp of her bra, and suddenly she wasn’t thinking of sleep. 

Looking into his eyes, she pulled him slowly down for another kiss. Her eyelids fluttered closed when their lips met and she found herself sighing his name. 

“Mmmm, Fitz,” she moaned quietly when his tongue slid tentatively against her mouth, and the fireworks continued to explode inside her. 

Encouraged by Jemma’s gentle touches, he kept up his attentions until her thumb moved over his lip. Somehow, this didn’t feel exploratory as their other touches had been—it felt like more.

He went willingly down to meet her lips, having been longing for them already. But it had been her eyes that told him that she wanted more than the chaste kisses they’d shared since coming to her room and he slipped his tongue past her lips to slide against her. 

Hearing her moan his name, feeling it vibrate against his own lips, he was inflamed. He let rage the passion for her he’d been suppressing, consciously for more than two years and, subconsciously, heaven only knew how long. 

Fire was lancing down his spine and swirling molten hot in his belly as he kissed her. The fact that she was responding with a passion of her own was all he could really think of. He loved her desperately but he also wanted her.

His brain was trying to see how it could be wrong if she was ready for that and it kept coming up blank. They hadn’t worked through all of it but it was too much to expect. They already knew that they wouldn’t give up—what more did they need to make it right?

Jemma knew better than to be surprised by the passion Fitz showed when he kissed her back. He’d proved to her already, twice now, how much he wanted this to happen between them. She only hoped she’d made it equally clear. 

She wasn’t sure yet how far she was ready to take this new step, but she knew she hadn’t hit the edge of it yet. Nowhere near. 

Sliding her hand from his shoulder down his arm, she removed his hand from her back. She felt him pull back further, immediately, but she mumbled a noise of negation and with the hand that was still pressed to his cheek, she kept his lips pressed to hers. 

“Don’t stop?” she asked between kisses. “Please?” She blinked her eyes open to look at him and gauge how he was feeling. He seemed as interested in continuing as she was. 

“Not yet?” she asked again, pressing another short kiss to his lips. “Not _just_ yet?”

And she rolled onto her back and took the hand she’d removed from behind her and placed it on her waist. 

She didn’t want to push too far, but she wanted to feel the comfort of his weight above her. Even just a little bit. 

Immediately thinking she wanted him to reign things in, he pulled away as she tried to move him. Her ‘don’t stop’ was clear enough—she wanted to keep going which was good. But the ‘please’ struck him oddly—did she think he _wanted_ to stop? The only thing he could make of ‘not yet’ was that she had an idea of where she _did_ want things to stop. He only wished she’d share that information with him. 

When she rolled back and moved his hand to her waist, he clutched her hip, gripping the flesh there through her clothes like a lifeline. He settled over her gingerly. This new position a bit less comfortable for him since it was now impossible to hide from her how turned on he was as his hard cock throbbed against her thigh. 

Nibbling her mouth, almost nuzzling it, he then traced her full lower lip with his tongue, before whispering, “I’ll do anythin’ you want, Jemma. You don’t have to worry, I’ll stop whenever you like.” 

He kissed her again deeply, hoping she would take it as comforting—a sign he was willing to go on, or stop if she chose.

Jemma moaned into his kiss, both of her hands moving into his hair to pull him even closer down on top of her. Her mouth opened wide and her tongue came out to slide against his, and stopping was the last thing on her mind. 

“Never stop,” she mumbled against his lips, wanting him closer. 

She felt him there, hard and heavy against her thigh, and she wanted him even closer. As close as physically possible. 

Looking up at him again, still a bit uncertain, she bit her lower lip. So far, telling him how she felt had worked out so much better than she could have expected. When an experiment was this successful, it deserved to be repeated. 

“Touch me?” she asked him. And then she covered the hand on her waist with her own and started to pull it upward. 


	4. Entwined

Fitz let out an embarrassing moan against her lips when she said ‘never stop’ because—god—he never wanted to. He wanted this to last forever. 

At Jemma's next questioning words, he didn’t need further encouragement, he let her lead his hand freely upward to cover her breast, the aching throb of his cock was only growing as he felt her hard nipple through the layers of fabric. 

His breathing was growing ragged as he palmed her breast, trying to feel the shape beneath her bra. He redirected his mouth to her neck, where he hoped his more distracted and sloppy kisses might not be as much of a concern.

Humming against her throat, his thumb circling the stiff point of her nipple over her layers, he involuntarily shifted his hips against her thigh and moaned out a curse that halted him.

He hadn’t really expected the current level of intensity with their clothes still on but, nonetheless, it was happening in spite of him. At this rate, he was going to come in his pants as if he were fourteen. Bloody hell. 

“Fitz,” Jemma moaned again, eyes rolling back into her head at the feeling of his lips on her neck. His hand on her breast felt amazing and right, and she only wished he’d slid it under her blouse instead of over. 

Moving her legs apart, she shifted her hips and pulled him fully on top of her. The feel of him, heavy and hard against her thigh, was too tempting to resist. She wanted to feel him somewhere more sensitive. 

“Is this alright?” she asked, one hand on his head pulling him hard against her neck and the other wrapped around his back and pressing her nails into his shoulder blade. 

Finding himself now between her legs, his stiff cock positioned against her core, he felt heat racing through his limbs and along his skin, making him prickle with gooseflesh.

“Yeah,” he said tensely, trying to control his reaction to the incredible feel of her beneath him. 

Her hand on his head was insistent and very clear, so he went back to the hot, wet kisses he was running up and down her neck. Though the feel of her breast through her layers was incredible, he couldn’t but admit that he was eager to see them and—holy fuck— _feel them against his tongue_. But he had no idea if ‘never stop’ encompassed her letting him do that.

In between frenzied kisses, he moved his hand to the hem of her top, his fingers edging beneath to touch skin as he breathed out, “Can I, ehm, you know—” Jesus, why was it so difficult to say? “Is it okay to—can, ehm—” he took a breath because he felt like there was none in his lungs, “I want to kiss—see—ehm—Christ, it’s like I’m bloody nineteen again,” he groaned. 

Raising up, he met her eyes. “Jemma, can we take our tops off?” He grimaced down at her. “Or is that—not good?”

Jemma resisted the urge to laugh at the practically painful expression on his face and instead pulled him down for another kiss. 

When she released him, she looked at him a bit shyly. She still couldn’t believe it was _Fitz_ she was doing this with. She wondered if she’d ever get used to how amazing that was. 

Biting her lower lip, she nodded slowly. Then she licked her lips as seductively as she could manage. 

“I think,” she said, swallowing her sudden nerves. “I think I’d quite like it if you took it off for me?” Her voice rose a little bit at the end, and she smiled a flirtatious grin. 

Fitz’s agony was alleviated in an instant when Jemma hauled him down for another kiss. When she broke it, he could only stare at her glistening lips as she first bit and then licked them wantonly. He was almost stunned by the words that escaped them. 

He didn’t need to be told twice, however. 

Nodding, he raised up, grasping the hem and dragging it upward slowly enough for her comfort. He was eager but he didn’t want to make her uneasy. That was more important than anything. 

Once he helped her off with her top, he began his own buttons, much less concerned about his own timing, he had it off in a matter of moments, letting it flutter to the floor with hers.

Jemma watched, entranced, as Fitz moved so slowly and carefully to undress her. It was like he was worried he might break her, and her stomach swooped like a diving bird as she remembered that he loved her. 

_Fitz_ loved _her_. 

He was much faster with his own shirt, and she made a mental note to tell him to slow down next time. She wanted to see _him_ at least as much as he wanted to see _her_ , after all, but she didn’t want to stop them right in the middle to critique him. It seemed a bit rude. 

Seeing so much skin, he got distracted and he reached out a hand to slide over her belly, just light brushes of his fingers. He saw the burn scars on her chest and, though he couldn’t help his internal wince at seeing the evidence of the pain she’d endured, he made no mention of them. It had no effect on how attractive he found her and he had no wish for her to think that it did.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, stroking the edge of her ribcage with his thumb. Moving over the top of her again, he met her eyes before lowering his mouth to her tender belly. His eyes closed in pleasure at the taste and feel of her soft skin. 

Her stomach tensed automatically under his gentle fingers, his soft touch tickling her as much as it electrified her skin. She knew he could see the scars left by her torture, and she was so glad he didn’t stop or comment. 

She was about to scoff at his calling her marred skin beautiful, but the look on his face told her it wasn’t a lie. And then he was kissing her stomach and her whole body felt alive and sensitive, and she wished he’d taken her jeans off, too. 

Exploring her contours with his lips and tongue, Fitz thought how this felt somehow just as intimate as kissing her gorgeous mouth. He dipped his tongue deeply into her navel before licking a trail up the center of her torso, pausing at her bra. 

Reaching for the strap, he held it in his fingers and confirmed, “Ehm, can I? ”

When Fitz fingered her bra strap and ask if he could remove it, Jemma couldn’t move fast enough. Leaning up slightly and supporting herself on her elbows, she gave him the room to work. 

“Please do,” she answered him. And then she burst into giggles. _Please do._ As if she were giving him permission to borrow her chem notes or something instead of remove her bra. 

“Sorry,” she apologized, trying to get her laughter under control. “I think I’m a bit giddy is all,” she explained. And then she leaned forward and kissed him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before in my life, you see,” she told him. 

Fitz’s lips curved into a smile as Jemma laughed even though he had no idea what was funny. When she explained, kissing him and saying she’d never been so happy, he was flabbergasted. 

He felt overwhelmed by it, the idea that Jemma was happy to be with him. Thinking on how he’d imagined this happening between them, he’d thought for awhile now that, in reality, Jemma would be resigned rather than truly happy. He was ecstatic to be wrong. 

Leaning forward, he caught her lips in another kiss as he slid his hand along her neck. Parting from her, he said, “I feel that way as well. I can’t believe this is happenin’. I’m so happy, Jemma. I love you so much.” He shrugged, a wry smile on his lips, “Love’ll have to do until we figure out somethin’ better.”

Fitz wasn’t bothered by the word ‘love’. It wasn’t a word he used with anyone but Jemma (well, and his mum, he supposed), so its meaning was strong in his mind. It was a word that was only used in utmost seriousness and honesty.

This time, when he met her lips, he let his hands wander over her back and, when he found the clasp of her bra, he began to work it open. It didn’t take him embarrassingly long, but only just. Sliding the fabric down her arms, gazing at her breasts, he looked up and met her eyes with a hungry, yearning expression on his face. 

Reaching out tentatively, going slow, his eyes searching hers as he went. he gently cupped her breast; weighing it in his hand before gently stroking over her nipple with a thumb. Desire overwhelming him, he leaned forward, kissing her tender skin just above her nipple before darting his tongue out to lick the puckered flesh. 

Sliding his arms around her waist, he tightened his embrace, pulling her into his lap as he began to eagerly kiss and suck at her breasts. 

Jemma’s smile widened when Fitz told her he loved her again. She didn’t think she could ever hear those words enough. Not if she heard them a million times. 

Her mind wandered briefly as she ran through a mental thesaurus, looking for synonyms that came closer to capturing how she felt, but she came up empty. 

Truthfully, she stopped looking the second Fitz bared her breasts. The way he looked at her after they were revealed made her breath catch in her throat. Then it all came out in a long, languid sigh when he stroked her before ending on a whimpering moan when he took her in his arms. 

“Fitz,” she gasped, clasping at the back of his head as she squeezed her thighs around his waist. “Oh, _god,_ Fitz,” she panted through ragged breaths. “So good,” she whispered, her head lolling back on her shoulders. “So good, so good, so good.”

She rolled her hips against him, undulating against his hard cock and wishing she could better feel it through their jeans. 

“Please,” she whined, shocked by how desperate she sounded. She didn’t know what she wanted him to do, she just knew that she needed _more_.

Fitz was more than enjoying what his mouth was doing to Jemma. Her panting and moaning and gasping out his name was bringing him to a fevered pitch.

He froze when she rolled her hips against him, pleasure arcing through him like lighting. Wanting to pull her down hard against him, he knew he’d only lose control but her whimpered out plea had him searching for a way to relieve her agony. 

“Jemma,” he said, trying to get her attention back on him, “Should I—” he fingered the button on her jeans. “I can…touch you,” he sucked in a breath, “or use my mouth.” 

Jemma’s eyes widened in surprise at the suggestion and she forgot to breathe for a moment. 

“I’ve never—” she started, blushing suddenly in embarrassment. “I mean, no one’s—” She blinked a few times and swallowed hard, her breath coming back in nervous heaves. 

It wasn’t that no one had offered before. She’d had enough boyfriends in her time and engaged in enough sexual activity that it had definitely come up as a suggestion before. She’d just never been comfortable with the idea before. The idea of someone being that close to her, that _intimate_ with her had always made her refuse them when they’d asked. 

Her eyes had dropped down at some point, her shyness at the idea making it hard to look him in the eye. But now her eyes rose back up and met his, and she felt a jolt right in the centre of her, way down deep. 

“I—” she looked at Fitz’s face, those familiar blue eyes and that wonderful mouth, and she thought about all that they’d been through. She loved him. More than loved him, and he’d more than earned this closeness if he wanted it. 

And the more she thought about it, the more she wanted it, too. 

“I think I’d like that?” she said, a smile blooming through her hesitancy. “I think I might like that very much,” she said, and this time she sounded sure. 

Jemma’s look of surprise had Fitz instantly regretting his suggestion. He thought he’d gone horribly too far. In his mind, it had seemed a very good thing to offer, a way to be close to her and make her feel nice.

Her stuttered out hint that she’d never done that had him berating himself that he hadn’t stuck to caution. What had he been thinking?

By the time she spoke again, he was ready to take it back; tell her never mind because it was a horrible idea. 

Then she agreed—tentatively at first but then more sincerely. Now, he was just left to wonder what he’d been thinking to ask when he’d never done that before. He was bolstered by the idea that they were both new at it. She didn’t know what to expect anymore than he did. That suddenly seemed a very good thing.

Gently, he eased her back onto the bed, then cautiously undid her button and zip. Slowly, he dragged her jeans down her hips, pausing to meet her eyes but also to appreciate her naked flesh as it was revealed. 

He skimmed his fingers over her the edge of her knickers, sliding down over them and along her smooth thigh. His eyes lingered over the place between her thighs but he made no move toward touching her there yet. 

He finished peeling her jeans from her legs before moving back up her body while sliding his hands sensually up her outer thighs. 

Feeling rather speechless in the face of what he was about to do, he still kept his eyes on her as he began to drag her knickers down. She lifted her hips and he soon had them around her thighs while his eyes dragged over the delta of dark hair at the join of her legs. Looking away self-consciously, he pulled her knickers down and off her feet. But now his heart was pounding and even his insistent cock had taken a backseat to his fear that he was going to muck this up terribly.

Not quite ready to dive in, he picked up one of her feet and lifted it to his lips and kissed the top lingeringly, giving it a playful lick or two. Holding her leg aloft, he caught the first glimpse of her pink lips visible amidst her softly curling hair. Kissing his way to her knee, he crawled forward, sliding his hand along the back of her thigh as he let it go back down on the bed. 

“Tell me…if it’s okay,” he said as he lowered himself to the bed, still staring up at her once he had his face between her legs. With his eyes on her, he dipped his tongue down into her slick heat, surprised that her flavor was so to his liking. 

Slipping his fingers along the crease of her thigh, he parted her plump outer lips and began to explore her most personal and sensitive places. 

Jemma held her breath as Fitz leaned forward and pressed his tongue against her. She cringed, waiting for him to make a sound of disgust or displeasure, but instead he made a hum of approval. 

She remained tense for an extra moment, waiting for she didn’t know what and when nothing happened beyond Fitz’s tentative licks, she allowed herself to relax. 

Frowning now, she closed her eyes to better focus on what he was doing to her. It was a sensation unlike any she’d ever had before, and she was trying to pin down whether she liked it. 

The roughness of his stubbled cheek against her sensitive inner thighs distracted her for a moment, but then his tongue slid up from her entrance and wiggled against her clit, and suddenly she wasn’t left wondering anymore. 

“Oh!” she gasped, her eyes bursting open and her head flying up from the mattress. 

“Oh, Fitz!” she shrieked in surprise when he sucked her clit into his mouth. And without her consciously deciding to move them, her hands flew onto his head to keep him where he was. 

“Oh, _god!”_ Her head dropped back down to her pillow and started to toss back and forth as he moved his tongue around and around her most sensitive spot, reaching places that her fingers never had. 

Fitz was very surprised by how much he was enjoying having his mouth on her. The slick feel of her and her taste—he couldn’t describe it but it only made him want her more. The intimacy of it was far more than he’d expected, all her little signals seemed heightened and the sheer trust she had in him—it was all incredible.

His arousal was quickly ratcheting back up to near-agonizing levels. As he lapped, however, Jemma’s response wasn’t what he was hoping—that was, until he tried moving a bit higher. 

Finding her throbbing clit, he sucked it between his lips and drew, much to Jemma’s apparent pleasure. With her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging and holding his face against her in a way that made him ache even more. He continued to lap and suck with her excited cries making the pulse in his cock nearly unbearable. 

Touching his fingertip just above her entrance, he circled around it before pushing inside with first one and then carefully adding a second finger. He moved them rather tentatively in contrast to his mouth and tongue which he kept moving at a frenzied pace. 

His hips kept bucking involuntarily, accidentally rutting against the bed. Each time, he thought it would be the last but he somehow managed to hang on, keeping himself from an embarrassing end. 

Jemma’s moans ringing in his ears, he felt her fluttering around his fingers and he had the thought—what would that feel like with his cock inside her? It was all he could do to keep his mouth moving as he came hard, crying out roughly against her sensitive flesh while his body rocked with spasms as flame raged through his belly and flared outward leaving him trembling.

Jemma was overwhelmed by the feelings he was rousing in her. Each pass of his tongue against her clit sent an almost electrical rush through her body that caused her to shiver and shudder against him. She wondered briefly if it was what he was doing, or if it was just the fact that it was _him_ doing it. 

In the end, it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be doing _this_ with anyone else. 

When his finger teased against her, the coil in her stomach wound somehow even tighter, and when he pushed it inside she wondered how she didn’t burst. The second finger added to the pressure and tension inside her, and still it grew and grew. The way he moved them so slowly while so passionately working her clit had her riding the edge of a wave she couldn’t crest. 

Letting go of his hair, she reached up to her breasts, pinching and pulling on her nipples and pretending her fingers were his lips. She wanted him everywhere, touching every part of her at once, wanted him inside and out of her, over and under her, surrounding and enveloped by her, all at the same time. 

His shout against her stuttered her to a stop as she wondered what had happened to him. But the shout turned into a groan, and his mouth kept moving, and she realized he’d just come without her touching him. 

“Fitz,” she panted again, hands working her breasts once more. “ _Yes_ , Fitz!” 

Her eyes were closed and her pussy was squeezing his fingers and she was imagining his cock, his hard cock, _Fitz’s_ hard cock spurting out his cum. 

His orgasm made her chase hers even harder, bucking her hips against his hand and his mouth. She wanted to see him, wanted to _feel_ him next time, wanted him to shout his pleasure into her ear or against her throat or pressed up against her lips as he was pressed deep inside her. 

That thought was enough for her, and suddenly all of the tension in her stomach released at once and she was shaking and trembling and gasping out words, not knowing what they were. 

All that she knew was that this moment, with Fitz, was as perfect as it was unexpected, and she wished it could last forever.

Though he was a bit embarrassed, Fitz was still floating in a haze of lust as he resumed his attentions. But now he was more focused, less concerned with his own needs and more able to think about Jemma’s body, her pleasure. He tried to memorize the topography of her, the brushes and slides of his tongue and lips that brought out her moans and her little cries, all her restless neediness as she closed in on her moment of ecstasy.

His body was still buzzing in the aftermath of his own climax. He wasn’t used to this level of intensity. His inevitable needs were generally taken care of in a very routine and perfunctory way these days—he was hardly used to such a high degree of arousal. He never let himself get so worked up. Keeping his passions cooled and his feelings repressed was the life he’d grown accustomed to. 

As Jemma moved her hips toward him, desperately seeking release, Fitz increased his efforts. Moving his fingers faster and grinding his mouth against her, he sucked on her clit lustfully and hummed out his approval while waves of new arousal washed through him.

He was astonished when he could feel her body thrumming against his lips, her hot, slick cunt gripping his fingers as the bliss running through her made her shiver and murmur unintelligibly. 

He didn’t stop, but he was less vigorous as he tried to tease every bit of pleasure from her body that he could. When he felt her relax, the last of her pulses fading, he eased his fingers from her and, with one last long slide of his tongue through her wetness, he finally looked up and smiled. 

“That was incredible,” he said, but feeling slightly shy and still embarrassed that he couldn’t keep himself together, he slid her knee from his shoulder and moved forward, pressing his cheek to the downy hair of her mound. 

Tracing a shadow along the jut of her hip with his thumb, he nuzzled his cheek against her and let his eyes slide shut, blissful just from the closeness and the heat of her body bleeding through his skin.

“I love you,” he said quietly, his chest tight with the intensity of his feelings. He was still trying to hold them back, he realized, for fear that she would be overwhelmed by what he felt—the vastness of it. 

Wanting to feel closer, he raised up and met her eyes as he said, “I want you in my arms. I want to feel your skin against mine—if that’s okay?”

“That’s _brilliant_ ,” Jemma smiled, pulling him over on top of her. “Absolutely _brilliant.”_ Cradling his face in her hands, she brought him down for a kiss. 

“And for the record?” she said, looking at him seriously because it felt like he still might not believe her. “I love you, too.” Wrapping her arms around him, she held him close against her chest. “I love you so much,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Fitz laughed at Jemma’s sudden burst of enthusiasm. Even as she kissed him, he couldn’t help chuckling against her lips. However, when they parted, his brows rose inquisitively as she grew serious. 

Warmth bloomed in his chest and drifted out to his extremities at her sincere attempt to convey her feelings. Luxuriating in the feel of her arms wrapped around him and her bare skin against his, his eyes slid shut and he hummed out a contented sigh.

But not wanting her to think he didn’t believe her or understand her sincerity, he pressed a kiss to her scarred chest and said, “I know, Jemma. I can feel it. I couldn’t have done this if I didn’t—I wouldn’t have wanted to. But you don’t have to be sorry. I’m just glad you’re ready now.”

“This really isn’t how I thought this day was goin’ to go,” he said with another happy chuckle. 

Shifting his hips, feeling uncomfortable in his damp trousers, he looked up and said, “I’d like to—” he gestured toward his lower half, “get a bit more, ehm, comfortable? If that’s…okay?” 

He really hoped there wasn’t any reason it wouldn’t be. He probably couldn’t have accurately described how much he wanted to sleep with her in his arms that night, skin-on-skin, with their bodies entwined.

Jemma blushed and bit her bottom lip. She knew, of course, why Fitz wanted to take his jeans off. It was no doubt uncomfortably messy to wear them just now, and he wanted to be able to clean up. 

The thing was, though, that Jemma wanted him to take them off, too. But her reasons were decidedly dirty. 

“Maybe I could…” she licked her lips and hooked one finger into the belt loop at the front of his jeans. “Help?” she shrugged, looking at him shyly. “With that?”

She swallowed nervously, not sure if he’d want to continue now that he’d already cum. “If you… if you’re… interested?” she asked, a hopeful look on her face.


	5. Schism

Fitz felt his belly swoop at Jemma’s questioning. He’d been prepared to wait for more than what had already happened between them but even the suggestion was sending a rush of heat straight back down to his cock. The idea that Jemma really wanted him was also gaining much more traction in his mind. 

What he really wanted was to feel close to her, he couldn’t get enough of the feeling now that things between them were so significantly righted. The idea of making love to her, with bodies and desires perfectly aligned, was enthralling. 

His lips quirking into a wry smile at the idea that she might think he _didn’t_ , he leaned forward to capture her lips in a kiss. It grew heated for a few moments before he gently parted from her. 

Stroking her cheek, he looked at her lovingly as he said, “Yeah, of course I want to. Just—what about, ehm—we need a, eh, a condom or somethin’, yeah?” 

Jemma looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t quite gotten _there_ yet, although she wasn’t necessarily opposed. She’d just been thinking of… returning the favour, so to speak. 

When he registered her surprise, he suddenly looked less sure of himself, and she didn’t want him thinking that she _didn’t_ want to go that route with him. She certainly, _definitely_ , **_adamantly_ ** did! So she asked the question that was on her mind, anyway, and allowed him to think _that_ was the cause of her initial surprise. Even if it was the root of a more secondary reaction.

“You really do?” she asked. ”Are you sure?”

She hooked the index finger of her other hand in his free belt loop and now, one hand on either side of his jeans, she tugged him closer by them. 

“Because I’m more than happy to…” she licked her lips tantalizingly. “What did you call it? _Use my mouth_.” Her eyelids dropped down as her gaze took in the growing bulge behind his zipper, and then she looked back up at him from beneath her lashes. 

“ _More_ than happy,” she said significantly.

Tugging him down a bit further, she leaned up to whisper in his ear, “I’ll bet you taste delicious.”

Fitz was a little worried he’d misinterpreted when Jemma looked a bit surprised by his answer. Then she seemed very stunned that he _was_ interested but…she’d asked—or so he’d _thought_. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time to ponder before she was playfully pulling him to her but he was a bit startled by what she said—not only that—the _way_ she said it, as if she would _rather_ do that. She was acting downright provocative, even seductive. 

When she tugged him down to whisper in his ear, he nearly winced, his muscles tensing and throat tightening as he sat up again. Though he tried not to let his discomfort show, he wasn’t sure how successful he was.

“Ehm…” he tried to stall, feeling as if his eyes were too wide and trying to blink them back to normal. “Jemma, we don’t—we can just—I mean,” he drew in a quick breath, “we don’t need to do anythin’ more. It’s fine. I really just want to hold you. Can’t we just…do that now?” By the time he finished, his voice sounded far too pleading, high and rather reedy to his own ears, but he could only imagine how he sounded to Jemma. And, somehow, he was very afraid the answer to his question was going to be a very definite no.

Jemma knew as soon as she’d said it that it was the wrong thing. His whole body had frozen at her words. Not at all the reaction she’d been hoping for. 

She felt a bit lost when he rejected her. He wanted to have sex, but he didn’t want her mouth on him? Did he have a similar hesitation to hers? Was he worried she wouldn’t enjoy it? That _he_ wouldn’t enjoy it? Was it the act itself, or the fact that it was _her_ offering it?

He just looked so miserable, and she’d only been trying to make him happy. She wanted so _desperately_ to make him happy. 

“Of _course_ we can,” she said, trying to make her wobbling lips form a smile. “I didn’t mean to…” She sucked in a breath, “I don’t want to _pressure_ you to…”

She looked up at him with an apology written all over her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve messed everything up, haven’t I?”

Moving out from under him, she rolled onto her side to face him and reached out to caress his cheek. “I just wanted to make you feel as good as you made me.”

Fitz felt like things were going out of control again, like he’d spoiled everything badly. He could see that he’d made her feel as if she’d done something wrong, but he was afraid to say what was in his head—he didn’t want it to be true.

“No— _god_ —Jemma, it wasn’t _pressure_. Nothin’s messed up.” Or so he hoped.

He felt like it was all slipping away again as she moved, forcing him to give her space. Though she did reach out to him, it felt meager compared to what he’d just lost. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, wishing he could take it all back somehow. 

He reached up to touch her hand where it rested on his cheek but he felt the separation between them again now. The emotional distance as she pulled away as well as the literal space between their bodies. 

Not knowing how to right the wrong he’d done, he sighed and said, “Do you want me to go?”

“ **No**!” Jemma burst out, sitting up, shocked that he’d even suggest it. “Why on _Earth_ would I want you to leave when I’ve only _just_ gotten you where I’ve wanted you for so long?” she asked. 

She felt the uncertainty start to eat at her, the fear that this really _was_ all just some dream and it was time to wake up.

“Do _you_ want to go?” she asked, and her heart clenched in her chest. 

Fitz shook his head, feeling tears, hot and scalding, clawing at the backs of his eyes, “No, I don’t want to go but maybe we’ve—” he looked away, unable to meet her eyes, “Maybe we’ve gone too fast? I only wanted to be close, I didn’t mean for things to go so far. Maybe we should’ve just—waited a bit?”

He still didn’t want to voice his real fears. He was too afraid of hearing them confirmed—or worse, to have them left oblique and unanswered would likely be worse for him than knowing them to be true for certain.

Jemma watched his face heat up, the tears well up in his eyes, and her insides turned to ash. She was doing it again. Hurting him. And she didn’t even know _how_. 

“Fitz?” she said, reaching out a tentative hand to touch his forearm. When he didn’t look at her, she was tempted to remove it as being unwanted, but since every other instinct she’d had about him had been the opposite of right, she squeezed his arm instead. 

“I want to be close to you, too,” she said. “And if you’d rather we just hold each other and forget all the rest of it, I’ll wait as long as you need me to so you’re ready. So _we’re_ ready.”

She lay back down on the bed facing him, still holding his forearm, and then she turned over slowly so her back was to him and his arm wrapped around her. 

“I’d really quite _like_ you to hold me, Fitz,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. “If you still want to.”

Fitz’s hope grew as she spoke but then she faced away, pulling his arm over her waist. Gently, he pulled his hand back. Sitting up, he lifted his knees and hugged them to his chest.

“I really want you to be ready, for all of it,” he said, a bit hesitantly. “Are you sure that…you want this now? Because I can wait, Jemma. I can wait as long as you want—as you need. I’d never want you to force yourself to do anythin’ that didn’t feel…right. You know that, yeah?”

“Force myself to…?” Jemma’s brow knitted in confusion as she sat up and faced him. “What are you talking about?” she asked, not at all sure where this was coming from. 

“I _want_ this, Fitz,” she said, kneeling in front of him and resting her hands on his knees. “I want this more than I’ve wanted anything else in my life.” She almost added, “Including getting back home from that planet,” but she didn’t want to remind him of Will again. 

“I want _you,”_ she said, instead, urging him to believe her.  Hoping against hope that she wouldn’t somehow hurt him again. “If you’ll still have me.”

Shaking his head vigorously, Fitz said, “That’s not even in question, Jemma. Of course, I want you. I _always_ want you. I love you. Desperately. Painfully. Unendingly. Bein’ without you is like a part of me is missin’. I just—” 

Jemma tried not to let her hopes rise too high at Fitz’s passionate declaration. His expression was filled with a looming “but” and she didn’t want to crash into a million pieces when it came.

But it was hard not to let her heart sing out when words like “desperately” and “unendingly” were being thrown about, wasn’t it?

Especially when they were being thrown about by Fitz.

And yet, there it was. It was “I just—” instead of “but,” but the meaning was the same.

“I love you, but—”

“You’re wonderful, only—”

“I want you, I just—”

Any number of rejections started shouting down at her through her memory. Usually it was because she was too smart. Too independent. Too forceful. Too opinionated. Too anything at all that was who she was. 

And this time – she’d laugh if she could but only tears would come out – this time, she wasn’t enough. 

Fitz loved her for being smart. Loved her independence. Loved her forceful, opinionated nature. But when it came right down to it, she wasn’t enough. 

Not strong enough. Not caring enough. Not _good_ enough for him. Not really. Not even close. 

If she hadn’t hurt him so much worse than this, she’d wonder if there were anything crueller. Unfortunately, she knew far too well that there were.

He lowered his head, pressing his forehead to his knees. He was hurting her and he had to fix it. His stomach was roiling and his ears were pounding as he finally looked up. 

Letting out a long breath, he said, “I know you’ve said you love me and we’ve been friends forever so that makes sense but I know I’m not likely,” he shrugged, “all you ever imagined in a, ehm, a…mate,” he finished awkwardly, not sure what she would want to call them. 

He was afraid she would try to argue this point and he gestured for her to hear him out. “Just—as much as I can, I want to be everythin’ that you’d want. I want to make you happy. I’d do anythin’ for that. And all I want to make me happy is you—”

“But only if I can have all of you,” he said, meeting her eyes for the first time since he’d started speaking his fears.

“I don’t want your body. I mean, I _do_ want to make love to you, but it’s not anythin’ to havin’ your heart—freely and openly. I want you to be sure that you’re ready for that because—I just can’t do this if it doesn’t mean the same thing to you.” He managed to swallow past the lump in his throat, despite the idea that this could be the end if she didn’t feel the same.

“For me, it means that when I hold you, or make love to you, I want to look in your eyes and see that you feel for me what I do for you. And if that’s not— _realistic_ right now, then we should wait. I can wait.”

“And if that’s not ever possible then,” he shrugged, “maybe it’s not a curse, maybe it’s just not for us? Because I’d rather always be your best friend than be afraid that I’m not quite what you want—only just close enough.”

It was his reasoning behind it that finally brought her up short. Jerked her hard out of the spiral of self-loathing she’d been plunging deeper and deeper and _deeper_ into. 

Not what she wanted in a mate? He was her best friend in the world! The best mate she’d ever had or ever _could_ have! Had they really gone far enough astray that—

Wait. He meant _mate_. As in—

She was just blinking her way through that realization when the torrent of words continued.

How had she made him think that he _didn’t_ have her heart? Freely and openly? Was he still worried about Will? Should they have talked that out more before diving into their own heady moment of joy? A moment that was cut short too soon by her own _stupid_ running off at the mouth and worry over…

Her thoughts were interrupted by more of his words. They just kept pouring out of him, and she couldn’t keep up. 

_Oh god_ , he couldn’t do this? It wasn’t realistic? He’d rather be her friend?

It was too much, all of it. Too much at once. Too much for her to take in. Too much for her to puzzle through and work out. She felt like she was drowning in an ocean of words and none of them were making any sense to her.

The panic was closing in again. Panic that she’d lost him. Panic that he’d never really been hers in the first place. 

When she opened her mouth, the only sound that came out was a gut-wrenching sob. 

Fitz was carefully avoiding Jemma’s eyes, waiting for her response, once he’d finished unburdening himself of his worst fears, when he heard her choke out a sudden sob. 

Ice water ran down his spine as he realized that Jemma must be working out how to tell him that it would never be that way for her. Though he felt as if his heart had been crushed, he couldn’t bear her sobbing—her undeserved pain. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t feel that sort of love for him.

“No, no,” he said, tears coming to his eyes, “Please. Don’t be upset. I’ll always be here for you. It’ll be alright, Jemma. Please.” Though he was scared to try doing anything as bold as hugging her, he reached out and took her hand, when she didn’t resist, he held it folded between his own. 

“I’m sorry, Jemma. I wish bein’ friends was enough. God, I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have—I should’ve waited. I’m just so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I never meant for that. I only want you to be happy. Please, forgive me?” 

Jemma choked out another sob and gasped for air with lungs that felt too small for her body. 

“What?” she asked wetly, swiping her cheeks with her hands to rid them of the fat teardrops that were blurring her vision.

There had been a time in her life when she’d do anything before she’d cry, and now it felt like it was all she ever did. 

She stared at him in blank confusion for a moment before shaking her head and pushing off of the bed. Shivering with the cold and the horrible feeling of rejection, she moved over to her dresser and pulled open a drawer. She had just reached in to get a sweater when she was racked with sobs again. 

“ _Why_?” she asked through the wails she was trying to contain. “Why did you do it?” She turned back around to him, her broken heart bleeding all over her face. 

“Why did you let me hope we could be together? Just to take it away?”

She crossed her arms defensively over her chest, trapping her sweater against her body, and looked down at the floor. Her hair swung in front of her face, and she wished she could hide from him completely. 

“Why would you give me _more_ than a friendship, if that’s all you wanted to have?”

Never in her life would she have believed that Fitz could be cruel. Nothing had managed it so far. Not Ward. Not Hydra. Not Maveth. Not Will. 

Only her. 

She was poison. 

And she had killed their chance at love.

Watching Jemma get up from the bed was probably the worst moment of his life. It was made infinitely more painful by his own belief that there had been so much more between them only a few minutes ago. Being so wrong hadn’t been a flicker in his mind when they’d started this.

The pain in his heart and Jemma’s obvious distress left him wondering if this was all worth it or if he shouldn’t have just accepted that hollow feeling he’d had when Jemma turned away from him. Maybe he’d have gotten used to it and grown to accept it? But it wasn’t fair to her, either. She deserved real love again one day, not some flat substitute.

He could understand her upset—maybe she thought this would finally destroy their friendship? Fitz was beginning to think that it was likely going to be the case.

Wincing at her accusatory tone, he got up to get his own shirt from the floor. Any moment, she would likely demand he leave. 

Let her hope? Take it away?

“I didn’t know!” he said, shrugging into his shirt, “I never meant for any of this to go so wrong!” It was true. He hadn’t planned on any of this happening in the first place much less for it to end so bollixed up. At the time, it had seemed right, he’d been fooled. He’d let himself believe it, he supposed. 

All he wanted?

“What?” he questioned, because that didn’t make one bit of sense. “I never said _that_! Of _course_ I wanted _more_. I can’t help it if _you_ don’t feel that way about _me_ , Jemma! I don’t understand how this is my fault now!” Not that it was her fault either but she was accusing him of things that made no sense.

“ _Of course you said that!_ ” Jemma lashed out in frustration. She was shocked at the volume of her own voice, but she couldn’t seem to contain it. 

“You said you loved me!” she shouted at him, her whole body on fire with the pain of it. “You said you wanted me, _wanted us_ , wanted everything!” More tears sprang into her eyes, and this time she let them. “And then you said you couldn’t do it. We’re ‘unrealistic’. We’re better as friends.” She was practically snarling now in her bitterness.

Throwing her sweater on the ground with all the force she could muster, she took the few steps necessary to get right into his personal space and then she hit him. 

It was a glancing blow, off the shoulder. Even in her impotent rage she couldn’t bring herself to really hurt him. Still, she hit him again, on his arm. Again on his chest. Again over his heart. And then she collapsed against him in tears. 

Her breaths were coming in such heaves it was a wonder she was still standing. It was only her clutching hands in his shirt that were keeping her upright. 

“I _know_ I’m not good enough,” she admitted between gasps, shaking her head where it was buried against his chest. “I _know_ I don’t deserve you. I _know_ I’ll _never_ be everything you should have.” 

Finally she looked up at him, her eyes begging him for mercy. “But I’m willing to _try_ ,” she sobbed. “I have the rest of my _life_ to try,” she clutched at his shirt, desperate to make him understand. “ _Please_ let me try?”

She buried her face in his shirt one more time and breathed in deep the warm, familiar scent of him. “Please?” she whispered one last time.


	6. Appeasment

Though Fitz wanted to respond to Jemma’s words, he couldn’t really find an entry point into the argument she was apparently having with him as he stood there gaping. It wasn’t long before he began to realize that what she was repeating and what he’d actually said were more than a fair bit different. 

He flinched from the first blow but then stood and took the rest—he deserved them, and more. He was sure of it. 

He caught her in his arms as she collapsed but all he could do as she kept on was let the tears roll down his face as he murmured apologies. He’d never seen Jemma so upset, so hurt, and it was all his fault. 

“Of course you’re good enough, Jemma. You’re better than anyone,” he said, hugging her to him, sinking to the floor with her held against him. “Of _course_ we’ll try. We’ll figure it out. We always do. I just got scared, is all. It was stupid. Please forgive me? Because this is absolutely mad. I mean, we’re just havin’ a misunderstandin’, Jemma,” he kissed her temple and stroked her hair soothingly, almost desperately, “I’m sorry. Let’s not fight, okay? I _do_ love you, Jemma—so bloody much.”

He had no idea how much of his babbled out excuses were true or not but he didn’t care, whatever she could grasp onto, he’d be grateful for. This wasn’t what he’d wanted, to trade his pain for hers. If he had to choose, then let it be his. 

Jemma clutched at him like she was drowning and he was all that could keep her afloat. In a very real way, that was true. 

She tried to calm her breathing as she buried her face in the crook of her neck, but she wasn’t close enough to him to feel safe just yet. 

Worming her way into his lap, she wrapped herself around him, entwined herself fully around his warm, steady form. As his arms around her tightened, she sniffled up her tears, but her fists were still clenched tight in his shirt. 

“I love you, Fitz,” she mumbled into his neck. “And I can’t _stop_ loving you.” She rolled her head back and forth against his collarbone. “Please don’t ever ask me to try?”

“I never would,” he said, but worry and dread were already eating at him. 

Was he trapping them in something that would make them both unhappy in the end? How long would it last if Jemma came to realize what he already suspected was true? That they couldn’t build a life only on friendship and science. Jemma’s tenacity aside, there should be something of real love and desire, shouldn’t there? 

But more than those, he feared that true emotional intimacy was now off the table. Sharing his honest feelings with her had been disastrous and he didn’t think he could bear risking it again—not when this was the result. Now he was left to worry what would fill the void left by that deficiency. It seemed he was going to find out.

“C’mon, Jemma,” he said, petting her hair fondly, “Let’s get you back into bed, Let’s have a nice little nap, eh?”

Jemma sniffled again and nodded into his chest. She was emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and she still didn’t really know where they stood. But her eyes were so heavy and limbs felt like they weighed tons and all she wanted to do was sleep. 

She allowed Fitz to lift her up and guide her to bed, and she slid under the covers, still naked. Sighing at the warmth, she curled up on her side and waited for him to slide in next to her. 

When she didn’t hear him undress and didn’t feel the mattress bend under his weight, she cracked her eyes open enough to look up at him where he was looking down at her. 

“Fitz?” she croaked with a voice broken down by too many raw emotions in one day. 

She patted the bed beside her and held her breath. “Come to bed?”

Fitz gazed down at Jemma for a moment or two, just looking at her, so gorgeous and fragile. She was like an intricate stained-glass window, filled with light and beautiful colors, but she could be completely destroyed by even a small stone. 

When she cracked her eye and said his name, he started shrugging off his unbuttoned top and, with a sigh, let his trousers slide off his hips. He left his pants on, though they were damp, and climbed into bed beside her. 

Loosely, he draped his arm across her waist. “Sweet dreams, Jemma.”

* * *

 

Jemma woke up a few hours later to find herself curled around Fitz. She lay with her head on his shoulder and her chest pressed against his. Her arms were around his waist and his were around hers. She’d thrown one leg over him, as well, enveloping him as much as she could. 

For while, she just lay there enjoying the tranquility of the moment after the turmoil of before. She pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck and her fingers traced a lazy pattern over his chest. 

He was _here,_ and in this moment they were together. 

She just had to find a way to make this moment last. 

Sliding down a bit, she rested her ear over his heart and wrapped herself around him again. The panic of almost losing him had clouded her brain ever since she’d seen the marks on his neck, and it was only now that the adrenaline had finally worn off that she could see how neither of them had been able to listen to the other. For her, all of his words were filtered through the fear of losing him. For him…? Well, hopefully she’d be able to find out. 

She felt him stir beneath her and tilted her head to look into his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, simply and sincerely. “You’re right. We shouldn’t have skipped past this. This is the best part.” She blushed and looked down. “ _One of_ the best parts.”

She kissed his chest and then shifted back up his body so that she could look into his eyes. “I love you,” she said, more calmly than she had before, with all the force of her conviction behind it. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t hear you through my fear.”

Fitz hadn’t slept much. Feeling numb and yet full of dread for what was to come, he held Jemma in his arms the way he’d longed to and felt nothing but sadness. Though he tried to feel the pleasure and happiness that he’d been feeling earlier when he’d thought things were on a path toward the love he’d always longed for between them, now it just wouldn’t come. 

He felt trapped, but far worse, he felt hopeless—Jemma didn’t feel the same but she still wanted this. Why couldn’t that be enough for him? What was wrong with him that he could get his heart’s desire, but then find it wanting?

He felt sick that she could offer him everything he’d wanted and yet now he couldn’t feel happy. But he couldn’t hurt her like that again. It didn’t matter if he was happy or not. He hadn’t been happy for a long time and he had to assume that this would still be better than the loneliness he’d lived with for so long now. Thinking anything else was excruciating—the idea that he could still feel alone even when he was with her, that was agony—that was worse than not having her at all. 

But the fear that was far worse was that he could grow to resent her—only focused on what he didn’t have instead of what he did and begin to be angry at her that she couldn’t feel what he did. Was he really so…unworthy? But he didn’t want to believe that was the reason, he’d rather just think it was a quirk of biology or some peculiarity of the human psyche that prevented her from loving him completely. That was so much less painful than the alternative.

He sensed the change as she began to wake and tried to steel himself for whatever was next. 

Meeting her eyes when she looked up, he listened to her words and instantly he tamped down the feelings it invoked before he could even recognize them. Forcing himself to smile, he nodded and said, “Love you too.”

Jemma tried not to let that forced smile break her heart. She’d hurt him. Hurt him so badly, and one moment of peace wrapped up together wouldn’t fix that.

Laying her head back down on his heart, she squeezed him in her arms and asked the question she didn’t want answered. The one that made her soul ache with its truth.

“Fitz?” she whispered, lips pressed to his skin. “Why don’t you believe me when I say that?”

Fitz was gripped with the urge to tell her everything, to try to explain it once again, but then there was the memory of her face contorted with pain, tears streaming down her cheeks—because of him. His heart clenched at the thought of doing that to her again and, suddenly, he found himself shaking his head.

Tears springing to his eyes, his voice coming thickly through his throat, heavy with emotion, he said, “I’m so sorry, Jemma. It was my fault. _Please_ , forgive me. It was a misunderstandin’. I never meant to hurt you like that—please, believe me.” 

He tightened his arms around her, hugging her closer to his chest. “I never want to hurt you again.”

Jemma’s eyes teared up at the sound of pain in his voice, and she closed them tight. They were never going to get anywhere if they couldn’t stop _reacting_ and start actually _listening_ to each other. 

“Of course, I forgive you,” Jemma whispered soothingly into his chest, giving it a brief kiss. Raising up, she looked into his eyes again. “It was _my_ fault for not listening to you properly.”

She looked away and took a deep breath, trying to stay calm this time and not let the sharp stab of white hot fear at the memory of his near-death turn into the blind blanket of panic that had washed over her before. 

“I just—” She looked into his eyes again. “When you almost—” she breathed in a slow, shivering breath and let it out again just as slowly, closing her eyes for a long moment before opening them again. “I was in fight or flight mode, and I ended up doing both, and I just—” She shook her head. “I’m here now, Fitz. And I’m not going anywhere. I promise, next time, I’ll _listen_.”

Trying to sniff back his unshed tears, Fitz listened as Jemma explained how she’d been panicking at the thought of his almost dying and her promise to listen the next time. 

He so wanted to believe it. He wanted to think it had only been a bad moment but he didn’t know how he could risk it. Didn’t know if it was worth the pain he could cause her—but he so desperately wanted to work this out. To see if it truly had been a misunderstanding and if she really loved him the way he’d always hoped she would…

“I—” he began, but then he squeezed his eyes shut, seeing her tear-streaked face in his mind’s eye and her hitting him to try and give back just that tiny bit of the pain he’d caused because he’d cut so deeply, “should never’ve said those things. I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault,” he said, sighing out the last of his lungful of air before dragging in another.

He petted her hair and bent to kiss the top of her head. “I love you so much.” 

His lip quivered when he realized he couldn’t even be happy he was able to say that now. It felt too much like an apology. A plea, begging her to find him acceptable in every way—to look deeply and see all of him, even the things he’d always hidden for fear she would disapprove, and still find him worthy of her love.

Now, he couldn’t show her any more than he already had. He didn’t believe she wanted to see, nor reveal more of herself to him. The intimacy he’d been seeking seemed like it would not be forthcoming and he could only mourn that he’d been too foolish to realize they needed more time, or that he should’ve been more careful to see if she was ready for more. Now, he’d made her promises that he would keep but at the cost of what he’d dreamt of.

Fitz pressed his lips together to keep them from shaking and, his gut roiling with unexpressed feeling, he let his eyes slide closed.

Jemma watched the emotions as they slid across his face, watched the hope turn to resignation, and wished more than anything that she hadn’t done that to him. 

“You said what you felt,” she said. Her skin felt too tight, too small to contain all of the desperation she was feeling. How could she get through when she was the reason he’d shut down? “You _should_ have said it. I just wish I could have heard you.”

Curling herself around him even tighter somehow, she pressed another kiss to his heart. If only she could actually reach it. 

“But I’ll wait, Fitz,” she promised him. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to try again. And I’ll hear it right. I don’t want to misunderstand anymore. I want to get it right. For you. For _us_. And I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll wait. Forever if I have to.”

She looked up into his eyes again. She needed him to hear it, even if he didn’t believe it yet. “You’re _worth_ forever, Fitz.”

Hope brought tears to Fitz’s eyes again. 

Though he realized that she wanted him to tell her and her promises were very soothing, he still couldn’t stand the idea of it all going wrong again. Couldn’t face the possibility of her being hurt even half as much as he’d hurt her before. And he still remembered that feeling as it began to go out of control—how it felt as if it was slipping through his fingers and he didn’t know how to get it back. 

“I _can’t_ hurt you like that again, Jemma,” he said pleadingly, his arms tightening around her again involuntarily. 

“I never want to see you look at me like that again—ever. I couldn’t bear it. I don’t care about...me. It doesn’t matter. It—it just doesn’t matter. I don’t want to muck up what we have, either. I love you more than _anythin’_.” 

He realized that his last phrase sounded like a cliché, something you said for emphasis—but Fitz meant it very literally. There was nothing he wouldn’t give up for her—for her happiness. Even his own.

Jemma felt tears in her own eyes as his words cut her to the quick. How could he think he didn’t matter? He mattered more than anything. 

“It _does_ matter, Fitz,” she whispered, a silent tear running down her cheek. She managed a weak smile as she continued. “If you keep trying to protect me from getting hurt, I’ll never understand how you feel. And I _want_ to understand it.”

Leaning up, she kissed his cheek and whispered, “I love you.” She kissed the other and whispered, “And I want to be with you.” She kissed his forehead and continued, “And you can hurt me as much as you need to.” She kissed the side of his lips, “If it helps me to understand.” 

She paused and brushed her thumb over his lips. “Because, Fitz?” She smiled again, a bit stronger this time. “As long as I have _you_ , I can withstand any pain there is.” She stroked his cheek and ran her fingers into his hair. “It’s _losing you_ that makes it unbearable.”

Fitz felt reassured by her words until she said the awful words ‘you can hurt me’, head shaking he barely heard the rest of what she said, only catching the end when she said that losing him was what made it unbearable. He couldn’t even figure why she would ever think she would but he couldn’t get past the idea of hurting her or her thinking that would ever be okay.

“No, no, _no_!” he spluttered, shaking his head, tensing up and only just stopping himself from the urge to separate himself from her. “I _can’t_ do that. I don’t want to hurt you— _ever_. I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy. _Please_. Let me.”

Remembering that she’d said losing him was unbearable, he added, “You’ll never lose me. I’ll always be yours as long as you want me. No matter what.”

Turning to the side and letting her slip from her position on top of him. He looped his arm around her and pulled her quickly back against him, trying to press their bodies flush together. Dragging her knee over his hip, he kissed her passionately, weaving his fingers into her hair.

Jemma felt herself respond to his kisses. How could she not? She’d wanted to feel them for so long now… and they felt _so good_. 

She moaned against his lips, her hands tangling in his hair, and she welcomed the feeling of his body against hers. It was so hard not to let him distract her like this. But if they went down this road again, just like last time, they’d only end up at this crossroads one more time. 

“Fitz,” she panted, pulling their lips apart. “Fitz, wait!” She kept one hand on the back of his head, fingers combing through his soft hair, but the other she slid down along his neck to press against his chest and give her that extra few inches of space to keep herself under control. 

She blinked her eyes clear of the haze of lust that had started to cloud them and looked at him seriously. “You _do_ make me happy,” she said. “You’ve made me happier than anyone else ever has. _This_ makes me happy,” she said, nodding between their bodies. “This _and_ our friendship _and_ our partnership _and_ everything I…” she hesitated but pushed through anyway. He needed this. “Everything I—I _dream_ about… for us.”

She blushed and looked down, automatically trying to hide from the emotions she was expressing. Then she set her jaw and forced herself to look up at him again. 

“But we’ll never get to Perthshire if we can’t talk things out. And if we can’t listen.”

It felt so good to let himself get wrapped up in her again, to stop thinking about all that was going wrong. Fitz wanted to keep going, forget the pain and just float in this gauzy bubble of sensation with Jemma in his arms again.

His gut clenched when she stopped him. He’d known it was likely inevitable but it felt no less awful. 

Her mention of Perthshire brought the tears back, glazing his eyes and making his jaw clench in an unintentional grimace of pain. 

Hand sliding from the back of her neck, he swept his thumb along the curve of her jaw as his glassy, dark eyes searched hers. “What do you want? What do you need? Because I just don’t have it in me to hurt you anymore, Jemma. You’ve been hurt enough and I can’t be the cause of more.” He bent his head and kissed her again but it wasn’t passionate now, it was pure solace. 

Parting from her, he touched the tip of his nose to hers and said, “There’s nothin’ at all I want more than to be with you. Whatever that looks like. We’ll figure it out. I’m no expert, god knows. We have to just figure this out as we go. I don’t know how to be in a relationship like this, you know that. I’ll do the best I can. I just want to make you the happiest you’ve ever been. Okay?”

Rather than waiting for her response, he moved to kiss her neck just below her ear, darting his tongue out to slide against the tender spot before bringing his lips down to caress her skin lovingly.

Jemma sighed at the feeling of his lips on her neck. These soft, loving kisses were even more distracting than his passionate ones because these weren’t desperate distractions, they were…

She frowned. They _were_ distractions. 

He was distracting her!

Again!

“What do you mean,” she asked, pulling his lips off of her neck so that she could look into his eyes. “When you say, ‘whatever that looks like’?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ve got a _very_ clear picture in my head of what it looks like. Don’t you?”

Her expression turned to confusion as she tried to puzzle him out. “I mean, I thought—” Her eyebrows raised in a question. “I know, I shouldn’t _presume_ but…” She bit her lip and blinked her eyes and tried to focus. 

Taking a deep breath, her expression turned determined. “But when I think about us, I think of a cottage in Perthshire with comfy chairs by a fire and a great big bed in our bedroom and a dog and a cat and as many children as we can have, and I hope they’re all boys who grow up to be just like their dad.” 

She swallowed hard, nervous about what he’d think. 

“And if that’s not what you want, just… just tell me? And we can figure out something else.”

Fitz felt like she’d sucked the wind from him. 

The truth was he hadn’t known what Jemma imagined for their future and hearing the most perfect life he could imagine laid out from her lips was stunning—and one of the most beautiful moments of his life. 

Stroking her cheek, he said, “That’s exactly what I want, Jemma. Beautiful, perfect, Jemma.” He kissed her tenderly but when he parted from her, he said, “But they should all be girls though, as kind and clever as their mother.”

This time, he rolled her back, one hand on her cheek as he kissed her again deeply and one hooked behind her knee, raising her thigh up along his waist. 

Drawing back, meeting her eyes, he said, “I’ll do anythin’ to make that future happen if that’s what we both want. I promise. I love you.” He kissed her again, then kissed a trail of feather-light kisses over to her ear, where he whispered, “I _want_ you.”


	7. Convergence

Jemma’s whole body felt like it might float away. The weight that had lifted when he said he wanted that too was like the weight of the whole world. The relief was so palpable that she laughed through his first few kisses, the joy bubbling up from deep inside bursting out from her in the only way it could. 

“A dozen of each then,” she laughed, kissing him back. “Boys _and_ girls.”

And then he was pushing her onto her back and settling between her legs and saying the most wonderful things in her ear. 

She pulled him down to kiss him deeply and shifted her hips to bring him against her centre. She moaned into his mouth before sighing into his ear with a voice made throaty with desire. “Oh Fitz, I want you, too.” 

She kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck  and dragging her calf up alongside his ribs, opening herself to him. 

Fitz felt intoxicated by the way Jemma was looking at him—as if there was nowhere she would rather be than in his arms. It was a high he’d never known with anyone and, like an addict, he only wanted more.

Needing no more encouragement than her expressing her desire, he began to kiss her lips and explore her mouth with his tongue before moving lower, trailing down her neck and mottled chest to find her breasts. As he kissed, licked and sucked, making greedy, unconstrained noises of lust as he grew more and more impassioned, he moved a hand down to touch between her legs. Sliding his fingers through her silky, slick folds, he eagerly explored her contours, anxious to please.

Jemma moaned and gasped into Fitz’s kisses. She was still worried that they should talk—if this was his first time they should really discuss that—but she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that talking afterwards would do just as well. 

His kisses trailed fire from her lips down to her breasts and then his fingers stoked it between her legs. 

She’d never been in love with someone _before_ having sex with them. For her, the emotional attachment always came after. But the love that she felt for Fitz was already so huge, so wide, so _all-encompassing_ she didn’t know where else it could go after this. She was on the edge of a cliff, and she couldn’t wait to jump off. 

She kissed him with every ounce of breath in her lungs, as if kissing him would keep them both alive (and she personally thought that it might). 

Her hands roamed every part of him that she could touch. From pulling his hair to clutching his back. Stroking from his cheek to his chest to his hip. Grabbing his tight, round ass to pull him harder against her and trying to push his pants out of the way because she was done with having barriers between them. 

The few times Fitz’d had sex, though it had been physically intimate, of course, he’d barely known each of the women, so emotional intimacy hadn’t been among the options in which to indulge. Still, he’d felt the lack of it and it was one reason that one-night stands hadn’t much appealed to him. 

One reason why he likely hadn’t minded that was because, at the time when they both worked at Sci-Ops, as his best friend, Jemma had easily met all his emotional needs. At least, the ones he had use for at the time. He hadn’t been ready to make much of a commitment with anyone yet. Though he might’ve liked to have a girlfriend, the need for that was still mostly filled by his busy work life and Jemma’s ever-present acceptance and friendship.

Now, having been deprived of true emotional closeness with anyone for years, he was starved for it—he hungered for it with a fierceness that even he found surprising. Affection and love was what he wanted more than he wanted sex but, to have it, he would do anything. 

Surging back up to Jemma’s lips, he kissed her and kissed her. Trembling from the stimulation now, he shoved down his pants and grazed his hard length against her outer lips. Meeting her eyes as they shared breath, he rocked his hips, slipping between her wet lips to slide along her cleft, bumping against her clit as he thrust forward. 

Caressing her cheek, looking into her eyes, he clutched her hip and started to draw back, so he could move lower to slip inside but then he remembered. Bollocks, bugger, fuck, shite!

Breathing a bit roughly, his heart beating too fast and his skin beginning to prickle with slight perspiration from the state of sheer arousal he was in, he asked, “Jemma…what about…do we need…a, eh, condom?” 

God, he hoped not but, if so, please, Bloody Cosmos, let her have one.

The feel of his hard cock, dripping wet with precum, sliding against her and nudging her in all of the right places had her panting and keening and whining with desire. Her mouth opened in passion and need as she stared into Fitz’s eyes with his cock at her entrance. 

“No,” she shook her head, “No, no,” she gasped out. “It’s fine, I’m fine, it’ll be—”

He thrust deep into her and she let out a high-pitched squeak of surprise that soon transformed into a sultry moan. He was inside her. At last, they were together. She squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate on the wonderful, amazing, _perfect_ feeling of Fitz’s cock sliding inside her wet pussy, and she wished they could stay like this always. 

Looking into Jemma’s eyes as he waited, poised and ready, she was so insistent it was all okay that he pushed inside, only to be met with her surprised squeak. He halted, gasping in shock, with a worried apology already on the tip of his tongue when she moaned with such lust that he pulled back and thrust in deeply again, almost thoughtlessly. 

Her eyes slid shut and her mouth fell open in seeming pleasure as he began to move with his cock well-slicked and sliding effortlessly through her tight heat. Lowering himself flush against her body, he kissed her face again and again, eyelids, brow, cheeks, jaw, nose, lips—god, her _lips_ —he felt like he would never get enough of kissing her beautiful lips. He nibbled, caressed and licked them. He worshiped them. 

He started to move his hips, thrusting inside her again and again, and with each trembling, gasping moan to match his every thrust, she breathed,

“I love you, Fitz.”

“I love you, Fitz.”

“I love you, Fitz.”

“I love you, Fitz.”

As he buried his cock in her hard enough to rock them both, he still couldn’t do anything but adore her. 

He couldn’t believe how good it felt inside her. He couldn’t remember sex ever feeling like this before, so easy and familiar, or just so fucking incredible. His skin was on fire, heat blazing over it, making him sweat with every stroke as pleasure raged over and through him. He got lost in the sensations, the heat and feel of her surrounding his cock, her smell and the taste of her on his lips.

Then he realized what she was saying as she gasped and murmured and moaned—that she loved him. 

As ever, tears came to his eyes again but he swallowed them back, refusing to give in to them when all he felt was joy. Still, he heard himself gasping and sobbing out her name again and again as he was overwhelmed with feeling but her name soon merged into desperate I-love-you’s. 

Jemma was lost in the way his hands and lips explored her body, the way he said her name, the way he said _I love you_ , the way they fit together perfectly over and over and over again. 

Her whole body tingled, electrified, buzzing with possibilities, with the idea that they could do this. They could do this forever. They could do this for the rest of their lives. They had the rest of their lives together. 

He rapidly lost his rhythm as he grew close; his hips no longer thrusting so much as grinding his cock upward, seeking out the place that was making her moans come to a crescendo. Still pressing their bodies together, feeling her hands on him, he touched all of her he could. As he continued to move, slick sweat between them was allowing him to slip against her as he grazed a hand along her neck, cupped a breast or stroked down the back of her thigh.

Quite sooner than he wished, he came with one final push as he took hold of her hips and drove deep inside. With a rough cry, he lost touch with anything but the brutal pleasure that ravaged him and left him trembling and gasping for breath even as he felt the last quivering throbs of bliss come to an end. He gave up one last pulse, a final surge, when he felt her walls clench around him, as if drawing every last drop from his spent cock.

When he lost his rhythm, she welcomed it. She wanted to give him the same pleasure he’d given her before. Wanted to feel him empty himself inside her. Fill her up with the building blocks of who he was while she dreamed of who they could be, together. 

He thrust deep inside her as he started to cum, and Jemma surprised herself by cumming along with him. All of the excitement and wonder and awe and love that she felt swirled together tight in her gut and exploded around him and then she was squeezing him, squeezing around him, feeling him pulse as he let out a shout of ecstasy, and she let out a soft shout of her own. 

Ragged breaths making the hair over her ear flutter and fly, he kissed her cheek and said, “Was that okay?”

She was still panting and gasping for breath, overwhelmed with what they had just done and wondering when they could do it again, and there he was, the sweet adorable man, wondering if it was okay. 

Pressing his cheeks with both of her hands, she brought his face down for a lingering kiss. 

“It was brilliant,” she said. And the rapturous joy burbled out of her in another laugh as she wrapped herself around him, not ready to let him go.

Having heard Jemma’s laughing, Fitz still sounded rather stunned when he said, “What’s funny? Because that was—god—I’ve never—wow.” 

Though his softening cock was still inside her, when she wrapped herself around him, he relaxed into her embrace, dropping his head onto her shoulder. He was still breathing a bit rapidly and his limbs felt quite heavy. 

“ _You’re_ funny,” Jemma explained with another laugh and a quick kiss to his lips. “You wonderful, adorable, brilliant, sexy man, you.” She kissed him after every adjective, each kiss a bit longer than the last. Shifting under him slightly, she squeezed her pussy around his cock to keep it from escaping just yet. 

Mouth now muffled where it was buried against her neck, he said, “I’ve just never—like that and—oh—” He raised up on his elbow to look at her. “You’re okay, yeah? You sounded—I dunno—at first.” He grimaced slightly, “Christ, I didn’t hurt you at all—did I? I mean, you sounded okay after that. Should I have _stopped_? It was just...” He moved one shoulder up in a sort of shrug. “I was worried. I’d have completely stopped if you made any other odd sounds.” 

Sucking in a breath of air to replenish what he was rapidly using up, he touched her cheek with his fingertips, tracing the edge of her jaw with his thumb lightly as he asked, “You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? So I could be more careful next time, yeah?” 

“I promise, if I want you to stop,” she raised a brow and gave him a mocking version of the stern glare she used when lab procedures weren’t followed to the letter. “You’ll _know_.” Her face melted back into a happy smile and she played with his hair, still squeezing him every few seconds. He just felt so good inside her, even soft. 

Trying to focus on what she said, he nodded, but then started laughing at her stern look. “Alright,” he relented, “I know I won’t mistake that look for anythin’ but what it is.” He closed his eyes again, surprised by the small stir of interest his cock was already showing with more stimulation and he shifted his hips slightly, causing even more sensation.

Fitz’s lips quirked into a grin. He couldn’t help it, Jemma just seemed so happy—almost giddy. He really couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her this happy. Was it just…afterglow? Fitz’s eyes slid shut involuntarily when he felt her muscles squeezing him inside her. It felt strange but also amazing. 

“You have to promise you’ll stop me, too,” she whispered, looking at him earnestly. “You can stop things any time, if you’re not—” She paused, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want to _pressure_ you into,” she bit her lip and swept a broad hand along their entwined bodies. 

Fitz wasn’t sure what Jemma was worrying about pressuring him into exactly but he nodded in acknowledgement that he understood stopping went both ways.

“What? Pressure?” he blurted at her question. “Did you pressure me into…sex?” he said, starting to chuckle slightly at the idea. But not wanting her to be worried he quickly said, “No, of course not!” He kissed her playfully on the nose and said, “I _can_ actually say no to you when I want. But, Jemma, I was the one. I asked you, or rather, I told you what I wanted and you agreed.” Slight uncertainty crossed his features. “Right?”

In fact, though she’d clearly agreed, he’d been worrying a bit that he’d pushed her faster than she might’ve wanted in this direction. He’d been chasing more of the feelings of closeness that he’d been experiencing with her. He was just so afraid of that incredible intimacy ending—as it had before.

She took a deep breath and braced herself for the question. “Did I?” she asked, eyes squinting shut in worry. “I mean, if you’ve never…” She wasn’t entirely _sure_ he’d been a virgin. He’d never mentioned any romantic pursuits in all the years they’d known each other, so she’d assumed… But the way he’d just made love to her? 

Either he’d done that before or he was a genius with more than just engineering.

Hearing her unfinished question, Fitz’s brows squeezed together while he prompted, “Never… Never—what?” 

Then it hit him. She’d thought he’d never— 

Though he was no expert, he hoped that hadn’t felt like he’d never done that before because it was by far the best sex he’d ever experienced—miles ahead. He hoped this wasn’t her intro into telling him how awful it was.

He began to shake his head, slightly worried that she might be upset at being wrong. “No, I’ve, er—I mean, not a lot—but, yes, I’ve—a few, ehm—well, times.” He glanced away uncomfortably but, needing to know why she’d questioned it, he asked, “Does that matter? Did you wish that—or was it…not good?” He looked at her dubiously.

He was still a bit stunned, not that it was exactly a part of their lives they’d ever shared with one another. He supposed he’d met one or two of Jemma’s hulking gorillas over the years but that wasn’t the same as discussing it, acknowledging it, knowing for certain that things had, in fact, _happened_. 

He’d just assumed that Jemma assumed he had. What did she think? He had no urges? No desires? No bloody curiosity even? Or was it that she thought he wasn’t capable of finding anyone willing? Or brave enough to try? He wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about it, really.

Jemma sighed with relief when Fitz admitted that he _had_ had sex before. But then as he kept talking, she realized what he might be thinking and her eyes widened in protest.

“No!” she said, shaking her head vehemently. She mentally reversed back through all of his questions. “To all of that,” she confirmed. And then because she was still hyper-aware of how easily they misunderstood each other, she specified even further. “No, it doesn’t matter. No, I don’t wish you were. And no, it wasn’t not good.” She frowned at the double negative. “It wasn’t bad.” Her frown deepened even further as how uncomplimentary that sounded. 

Letting out a noise of frustration with herself, she rubbed her temple and tried to say things right. “I _mean_ ,” she said. “When you said you’d never… Well, it’s just that we’ve never _discussed_ … And having just experienced _that_ , I sort of doubted you were… I mean, I’d come to the conclusion that you almost certainly _had_ because…”

She looked up at him in mute appeal. “My foot is just stuffed right the way down my throat at this point, isn’t it?” she said with a sigh. 

“What I _mean_ to say,” she started again, rolling her hips and squeezing him inside her one more time, “is that was _fucking_ amazing, Leopold Fitz, and I want you to do it to me again as soon as possible.”

Though Fitz was glad of the clarification, her means of accomplishing it was adorably hilarious. He barely suppressed his chuckling as she stumbled over her words nearly as badly as he had. 

He bent to kiss her at her frustrated sigh and, smoothing the hair back over her temple, he tried not to think about why she’d made the assumption in that direction. Doing so got a lot easier when she squeezed his cock and said it’d been amazing—no, _fucking_ amazing. 

Lips quirking into a near-cocky grin, he shifted his hips again, careful not to slip out, feeling a rather surprising jolt of pleasure at the combination of slicking though her insides and her muscles clamping down on him. 

“Oh? Again?” he questioned playfully. “Liked it a bit, then, I see. Wanting more? Greedy.” He tsked and gave her a small shake of his head before rocking his hips forward. 


	8. Culmination

“Liked it more than ‘a bit’,” Jemma flirted back outrageously. “If you _will_ give a girl an orgasm, you sort of have to expect her to get greedy.”

She thrust her hips up to meet his downward strokes and arched her back to present her nipples to his mouth. She loved feeling him get harder and harder inside her, and one day she wanted to experience it with her mouth. 

Feeling his cock swell, he added, “More of this?” He thrust forward, this time his cock almost hard enough to push deeper inside her. 

“Or more of this?” He dipped his head and captured a nipple in his mouth, sucking it deeply even as he ran his tongue against her rapidly hardening peak.

Keeping up the small movements of his hips as he shifted his attention from one breast to the other, he finally got hard enough to start really fucking her again. He looked up from where he was circling her nipple with the tip of his tongue and raised up to slick fully inside her again. She fit him so well it was as if she were the lock to his key.

Shivering slightly at the incredible feel, using his arms he used his whole body, back arching as he thrust into her deeply. 

His breathing a bit faster, he said, “This what you wanted? Or somethin’ a bit…different? We could,” he drove in harder than he had before, “change things…up?”

Fitz was going completely by feel in his attempt to get Jemma to tell him what she enjoyed. He rather hoped that she wasn’t going to be content with missionary for the rest of their lives. He wasn’t experienced enough in _doing_ much less in _discussing_ sex (which somehow seemed far more difficult to him than just doing it) so under the circumstances, he was doing as well as could be expected

When he pushed himself up with his hands and started to delve even deeper into her, Jemma groaned and whimpered at the feelings his movements produced. 

As amazing as it felt to have his cock so far inside her, it was his words that made her shuddering and squeeze around him again. There was something about having Fitz ask her if she liked the way he was fucking her… She wondered how he’d feel about talking more. A lot more. And a lot more explicitly. 

Jemma Simmons loved a lot of things in life. Fitz. Science. Helping others. But she also really loved _words_. They were how ideas were shared and shaped and improved and communicated, and they made ideas better. 

“Good,” Fitz purred, shifting his weight to slide a hand down her body. Starting at her throat, he swept down over her breast, lingering, before moving to clutch her hip as he slowly pushed up into her tight cunt again. “I prefer you a bit greedy. I want you to have everythin’ you could ask for. All the orgasms and anythin’ else as well.” He hummed with pleasure, eyes closing briefly as he slid in again, hips clashing against hers as he filled her up. 

Bending to press a kiss to her mouth, he murmured, “You feel so bloody good,” against her lips as he arched his back, arse clenching as he bucked hard in an effort to keep up his measured pace.

Gripping his hips between her knees, she rolled them both over so that he was on his back and she was riding him. 

“How’s this?” she panted, working her hips to drag herself up and down on his cock. “Do you like me like this?” she asked.

Fitz was thrilled at the way Jemma took his hint and acted on it. The effortlessness of it reminded him of how they could be together, their minds meeting over ideas fluidly.

He easily sensed what she would do and relaxed, allowing her to roll them together in a smooth, coordinated move.

“God, yes,” he moaned in answer to her question, watching her move above him and loving it. How could he not like her there, breasts swaying and gorgeous body moving as if she wanted nothing more than to please him—him! He still couldn’t believe this was real.

This was his first experience with the new position and he couldn’t help looking down at where they were joined. The tension in his belly grew markedly as he watched her slide down his cock, seeing her pink lips distending around his shaft as he stretched and filled her. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered-moaned but even through his lust, he realized she must’ve heard and he glanced to her face, his lips quirking into a grin at seeing her expression was far from offended.

Reassured, his eyes were drawn back down again, watching as she rose, his glistening cock becoming visible beneath the shadow of her fine, dark hair. He groaned in sheer arousal as he realized he could see the tip of her clit just peeking out.

Running her hands up her thighs, over her hips, and along her ribs, Jemma cupped her breasts in her hands. Looking down at him, she pinched both her nipples at the same time and let out a throaty groan as her head dropped back. “Do you like what you see?”

“Talk to me, Fitz,” she sighed. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Fitz was soon distracted from his preoccupation with their joined bodies by her hands sliding upward along her thighs. He followed the movement up her body, all the way to her breasts. Watching her touch herself, pinching her nipples with obvious pleasure had his cock twitching inside her, his hips rolling upward involuntarily. 

“Christ, yes. How could I not like seein’ you? God, you’re so damned sexy, Jemma,” he said, his voice rough and deep in his incredibly stimulated state.

Instantly, heat rose to his cheeks at her request for him to tell her what to do. He hadn’t been thinking much on what he said and, though he was glad she, apparently, liked it, the thought of planning what to say with an eye toward arousing her was a bit terrifying.

He opened his mouth, a small but audible gasp escaping, before he closed it again with a snap. He didn’t even know what she liked, really. Then he remembered that she’d asked him to tell her what _he_ wanted her to do.

He slid his hands up her thighs. “Lick your lips slowly.” Frowning slightly, he said, “Is this—ehm, okay, nevermind. Er, lick them and get them really wet. Even suck on them. Then, ehm, touch them. _Really_ slowly. Bite your bottom lip a bit too. Let it roll out nice and slow.” 

Jemma reveled in the deep, raspy sound of his voice. She’d always loved to hear him talk, but hearing him talk like _this_ …

She licked and bit her lips for him, her eyes heavy-lidded and sultry as she looked down at him. Her hips rolled on top of him, lifting her up and dropping her down on his cock as he rubbed her thighs and watched her move. The way his eyes roved over her, looking from her face to her wide-spread legs, watching as she buried him deep inside her again and again, had her almost as hot as his words.

His face was very hot but her sexy acts just for him were too tempting, too incredible. He’d always thought Jemma a bit uptight and he’d never really imagined her this unrestrained. 

“I love your lips,” he admitted. “But you’re just so gorgeous, Jemma. Every single part of you.” 

With his hands sliding along the fronts of her thighs until he’d reached her hips, he shifted her slightly, contracting his stomach muscles to roll his hips forward and change the angle as she slid down this time. But the next time, he arched his back, pushing in deeper as he watched her, the tension going tight, right at the root of his cock. 

She really was the most incredibly sexy woman he’d ever seen. It had to be some sort of wonder that she wanted him—maybe even truly loved him.

Panting, sliding both his hands lower, Fitz dipped his thumbs down to run along the creases where Jemma’s thighs met her glossy-wet and straining lips. Eyes darting between her face and her wide-spread legs, her taut flesh was deep pink and inflamed with the stimulation as she increased the pace, her body moving over him feverishly. He gasped at the sight, awed by her.

Sliding two fingers into her cleft, he tried to rub at her clit, but the angle was horrid, his wrist at an odd, twisted slant and he finally resorted to using a knuckle to grind at it feebly. Then he thought of what he wished he could watch her do and the idea made him tingle with anticipation, his heart speeding up that much more at the image in his mind.

Pressing his lips thin in nervousness but too excited by the idea not to at least test the waters, he asked, “Er, would you, eh—if you want—could you, eh…touch yourself?” He sighed in relief once the question was out, not yet even having heard the answer. “Show me how you—er, ehm…get yourself off?” he finished with a slightly pained grimace.

Licking her lips again, painting them with her little pink tongue, Jemma slid her hands slowly down her body, skimming her ribs and hips before just barely grazing her curls. 

“You want to see me touch myself?” she asked, eyes closing as she ground down on him a bit harder. Her hands were splayed over his chest, and she felt her breasts swaying above him. She liked the idea of him watching them move. “You want to see what I do when I think about you at night?” Sliding her hands up to his shoulders, she then trailed them down his arms to his hands and lifted them up to cup her breasts. 

“Touch me, Fitz,” Jemma moaned, urging him on. “Touch me here while I touch myself.”

Fitz’s eyes tracked Jemma’s movements, from her glossy mouth to her hands skimming sensuously down her body.

His eyes closed briefly, her question inflaming him, but immediately, he began to nod. “Yeah, touch yourself the way you like to be touched best.” 

He gasped at the feel of her moving up and down. “You—What? Me?” he spluttered, shocked by the idea that she’d thought about him while she got herself off. “You thought about this? Havin’ me inside you?” He gave her an unintentionally lustful look as he bucked his hips upward to emphasize his point.

Moaning just at hearing her say those words, “Touch me,” he eagerly moved his hands to her breasts, flicking and stretching the tense flesh of her nipples between his fingers and pinching them lightly as he’d watched her do. 

“That good?” he asked, being careful so he wouldn’t hurt her by mistake. 

Eyes rolling back as she squeezed him inside, he forced them open as she raised back up, watching as she slipped her finger down between her legs.

Lips quirking at her mention of his hands, he cupped her breasts, filling up his palms with their fullness. “They were made to touch you,” he said raggedly, feeling a small pang but not letting it stick in his throat like he usually did, he pushed the feeling away and concentrated on the moment. She was his now and he was hers, for as long as she wanted him—that was all that mattered.

The feeling of his hands cupping and squeezing her was amazing. His thumbs flicked across her nipples and she shuddered and gasped, squeezing tight around his cock. “So good,” she whispered with a throaty moan, and then she arched her back and sat up again and slid her fingers between her legs. 

She was riding him faster now, desperate for the friction of him moving inside her. Reaching out her middle finger, she rubbed it along her clit and shuddered with a whimpering groan. “ _Yes_ ,” she gasped. “Oh, right there, Fitz,” she whispered, off in her own world of pleasure. “I used to think of your hands on me, your sexy hands with those gorgeous fingers.” 

She panted as she rubbed her clit harder and faster, fucking him harder and deeper, driving him deep inside her as he played with her tits. “And now,” she gasped for air, head back and voice keening, “Now I’m going to think of your tongue!”

She started cumming and cumming hard. Her gasps turned to moans turned to whimpers to squeaks and back to gasps as she felt herself go over the edge. It had never been like this before. Never been this free with anyone else, and she loved it. It was the best feeling in the world.

Trying to keep up with stimulating her rosy nipples, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from where their bodies were joined. Her rubbing over her clit as she moved her hips, dropping down onto his cock again and again. The tension was gripping him, an invisible wire pulling his hips up to meet her downward strokes.

He groaned, pleasure ratcheting up yet again as she reminded him of having his tongue buried in her hot, sweet cunt as well. 

“ _Fuck_! Oh, my _god_ ,” he moaned through gritted teeth as he tried to hang on. The pleasure was now becoming intense enough to nearly become pain, almost an agony of excruciating ecstasy as he anticipated his climax. 

Gasping and skin prickling with goose-flesh when her body began clenching and thrumming around his cock, he felt the incredible tension in his belly release in an instant. Erupting as he dropped his hands to her waist, he thrust up into her one last time, his spine arching and his heels planted in the mattress. 

His orgasm this time was long and intense; slow, hard pulses of rapture that sent tremors through him that made him moan low in his throat nearly until it ended. He was breathless by the time he came back to his right mind, his belly still throbbing and his cock downright aching with the force of it. 

“Holy _hell_ ,” he breathed, pulling Jemma down to his chest then rolling them to the side so he could slip from her. The sensation had grown too much and he needed to separate from her and calm his over-stimulated nerves. 

Snuggling closer so their faces were near and he could slip his arm over her waist, he said, “Sorry, can’t stay in this time, as much as I might want that. I wish we never had to part.” Chuckling at how odd that sounded, he added, “Though that would make gettin’ anythin’ done in the lab quite the challenge.”

Leaning forward to capture her lips in a kiss, when they parted, he said, “I love you, Jemma. My Jemma.” It felt strangely good to say that. He wondered how she would take it, though.

Jemma let out a soft groan of disapproval as Fitz slipped from inside her. She smiled up at him lazily as she caught her breath and squeezed her now empty pussy, missing the feeling of his fullness inside of her. 

“I wish you could stay inside me, too,” she agreed, nuzzling his cheek. At his comment about them being joined in the lab, she let out a giggle. She couldn’t help but think of how ridiculous it would be for them to have sex there. The hygienic issues alone! Although the _idea_ did hold a certain appeal. 

Her smile turned gentle as he kissed her and told her he loved her. If he told her that a thousand times a day, she still wouldn’t get over her amazement that it was true. She was about to say it back when he called her “his” Jemma, and she couldn’t stop her brows from furrowing together. 

She tried to let it go. She really did. She forced her face to relax and looked up at him with wide eyes and lips pressed together. She was _not_ going to ruin this lovely moment between them, just because she took issue with his phrasing of an idea that she otherwise supported. 

Besides, she could tell that as soon as he said it, he knew what was coming. 

So she pressed her lips together to keep the words in and snuggled in closer to his chest. 

“I love you, too,” she said, kissing him softly and stroking his skin. 

Then she squeezed her eyes shut, hating herself for ruining things but not able to let it go. 

“And while I understand that you were referring to us being in a monogamous, long-term romantic partnership and were not attempting to commodify me as an object that you own, I—”

She stopped short when he started laughing ruefully. 

She grinned back apologetically. “I mean, as long as you’re ‘my Fitz’?”

Stroking her cheek and pressing a tender kiss to her lips, Fitz said, “I couldn’t own any part of you, no more than I could own the sky.” 

He shook his head before kissing the tip of her nose. “I’d never even try. I wouldn’t want you to ever feel like you had to be anyone other than yourself—not for me. I couldn’t love you more than I do now, just as you are.”

“But I’m yours, Jemma,” Fitz said softly despite the thickness in his throat, “however you want me.” He chuckled, “Cage me under your workstation if you really like. I don’t care, so long as you want me.” 

Picking up her hand, he kissed the tip of each finger, even as he said, “I’d just count the minutes until I could touch you again.” Darting his tongue out, he licked her index finger, tasting traces of her delicious flavor still clinging to her skin. On impulse, he sucked her finger deeply into his mouth, sliding his tongue over it and humming in satisfaction. Moving her hand back, letting her finger slip out, he continued, “Or until I could taste you again.”

At the start of his speech, Jemma blushed and smiled and felt like the most precious thing in the world. Who wouldn’t? He’d just compared her to the sky. And the fact that he loved her as she was, even with all of her faults and all of her mistakes, it was like a dream.

But then he kept talking and, laughing or no, she heard the ring of truth in his statement. Cage him under her workstation? Did he want to be in thrall to her? That wasn’t the equal partnership they’d had for years. That wasn’t the relationship she’d missed so much she’d almost… 

Well. She’d be having none of that. And no seductive looks and tickling tongue were going to stop her from setting him straight.

… although they might get back to that tongue later. She was determined, but she wasn’t a fool. 

“The _only_ cage I want you locked up in, _Leo_ ,” she said, arching a brow to get her annoyance across. “Is my ribcage.” Her expression faltered as she realized how odd that sounded. “Because that’s where my heart is?” She bit her lip and looked up at him uncertainly. “And I love you?”

She closed her eyes in actual, physical pain at her inability to speak rationally with him. 

“That sounded a lot better in my head,” she admitted. 

Opening her eyes again, she looked right into his and set her jaw. “But be that as it may,” she grabbed his hand and threaded her fingers through his. “This is a _partnership_ , Fitz. And I don’t want you thinking this is however **I** want this and as long as **I** want it.” She kissed him tenderly and looked at him with all of the love in her heart. “Because I want _everything_ and I want it _forever_ , and I want those things with _you_. And I’m going to keep telling you that until you actually believe it.”

Fitz’s eyes darted up instantly to search Jemma’s face at the sound of her tone. It was one he was extremely familiar with and couldn’t understand the use of just now. He grimaced at the use of his given name, realizing that she truly was upset with him. Frowning, brows rising in confusion, at her floundering incongruous imagery, he was too apprehensive to laugh at her queer metaphor.

Tentatively meeting her eyes, he listened, afraid he’d mucked things up again, as she told him she expected that their partnership would be equal and forever. His heart swelled with love for her then, his protective best friend and now his—he still didn’t know what. They were freely each other’s, he supposed. 

Though the fear that she might leave him hadn’t gone completely, he was feeling better about this with her tossing out words like ‘forever’ and ‘everything’. But he knew that it was unquestionably forever for him and that meant that it _was_ as long as Jemma wanted because if they parted now, it would be on her terms. But he needn’t bother her with his lingering fears.

Suppressing a smirk, nodding his head vigorously, he said, “Yes, Jemma. Completely equal. Whatever you say, Jemma. Of course, Jemma. Absolutely. You’re so clever and brilliant. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He devolved into laughter.

Jemma rolled her eyes and haha’d good naturedly at his teasing. Alright, so perhaps she’d been a bit… directive just then, but sometimes he needed things set out for him. Directly. The adorable wanker. 

She grinned at him, loving to see him laugh. It had been _so long_ since she’d last seen him this happy, and she promised herself she’d keep him this way for as long as she was alive.

Pulling her closer by the hip until their chests were pressed together, he stroked over her hair, his features and tone going serious as he said, “So, as usual, we’re agreed then—no cages except for ribcages to hold hearts in love. I think I can live with that.” 

Running his hand down her spine, his finger searching for and finding her long-healed scoliosis scar, he added, “Is it okay if I want to give you everythin’ you’re dreamin’ of? Give you my forever? My whole life? All that I am? If I lay it all out on the table and say, ‘It’s yours first, if you have need of it’? Would that be alright with you, partner?” Though his words were slightly teasing, his expression was one of being raptly focused on her.

As he cradled her close and promised her forever, her eyes misted over. How he could think that she wanted anything else…?

“Oh, Fitz,” she whispered, overcome with emotion and not at all sure what to do with the feelings that were filling her up and spilling all over her. Closing her eyes, she kissed him. It wasn’t passionate this time. Not exactly. It was love and trust and promises and never letting go, and it was giving herself to him fully and completely and taking him back in return. 

Clearing her throat as she lifted her lips from his, she blinked back her tears and smiled. “That would be lovely,” she nodded. “And I give you my forever, too. All that I am and all that I can be. Everything in me, my whole life, is yours first, if you have need of it.”

And because this moment felt more profound and meaningful than any official ceremony ever could, she took his hand in hers and added, “For better or for worse, until death do us part.”

Fitz felt something in him crack when Jemma said those words—crack and shatter and fall away but instead of making him feel weaker, he felt strong. Fitz felt like he had everything he’d ever wanted and so much more.

“For better or worse, until death do us part,” he repeated solemnly, a tear sliding down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly and, swallowing hard, said, “I’m allowed to kiss the bride now, I hope?” 

Kissing her with all the the untapped feelings of love and longing and desire welling up inside him, Fitz finally felt something like true happiness wash through him, lighting up all the dark places that had grown so deep and black while they were left to languish during his time spent in loneliness and despair.

When they parted, he still felt misty but he couldn’t cry, not when he was this happy. With a slightly uncertain smile he said, “Maybe one day, if it’s okay with you, we could make it official—just...eventually.” Lips quirking a bit impishly, he added, “It would certainly make our mums happy, anyway.”


End file.
